


River For A Soul

by airbrushedworld



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: (like barely there and only if you squint), Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Angst, Aromantic, Aromantic Louis, Asexual Character, Asexual Harry, Coming Out, Fluff, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kissing, Liam Payne & Harry Styles Friendship, M/M, M/M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Smut, Minor Injuries, Niall Horan & Louis Tomlinson Friendship, Polyamory, References to Canon, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Spanking, Strippers & Strip Clubs, and lirry are best friends, but just to be safe, honestly nouis are best friends, much later in the fic and i will put warnings before any mentions!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2018-07-25 16:23:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 101,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7539610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airbrushedworld/pseuds/airbrushedworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmates have the tendency to find each other in the least likely places, whether they want to or not.<br/>How will an asexual, an aromantic, and a cynic react when they find theirs?</p>
<p>Alternatively: soulmates are a right pain in the... well, anywhere, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> *** I will always put any necessary warnings in this note at the beginning of the chapter, please do not read anything that you think could possibly make you uncomfortable! ***
> 
> You can watch the trailer for this fic here if you want to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GcDf6r9fn3M (but be aware of minor spoilers if that would bother you!)
> 
> This story is the product of eight months (and counting!) of hard work, eureka moments, stress, and refusing to give up!  
> I hope at least one person out there enjoys it!

**01 February 2012, 10:20pm**

_"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Harry, happy birthday to you!"_

Harry elaborately conducted his friends' singing until the end of the song and then tipped his head back, laughing. He was as content as he could be in that moment, relishing the feeling of the cold night air brushing his skin, and listening to the sounds of his closest friends laughing and cheering around him. He clapped his hands together happily, gazing blearily around at the group with a huge grin taking up the entirety of his face.

"Thanks, guys," he slurred, taking hold of his pint glass and holding it up in the air as a toast, feeling the remaining liquid sloshing around above his head.

"Cheers!" Charlie shouted, reaching across the small table and knocking his own glass against Harry's, almost causing Harry to lose his grip and drop the glass on the table.

Harry tried to glare at Charlie, cradling his drink protectively to his chest, but he knew he was probably dimpling way too hard to pull it off convincingly. He brought the glass up to his lips instead and drained the rest of the contents while his friends continued to 'cheers' all around him.

As Harry swallowed his last drop, wincing a little at the bitter taste, Jonny started up a chant of, "Speech! Speech! Speech!", which was quickly taken up by the rest of the group.

Harry put the glass down on the table, giggling, and covering his face bashfully. "No, no, I couldn't!"

"Speech!" Jonny repeated sternly, half pulling at Harry's elbow to get a reaction from him.

Harry looked around at his group of friends again, who were suddenly all looking back at him expectantly. All eyes were on Harry, and with a quick glance over his shoulder into the small pub, he gave in.

"Fine, fine. I'll give you all a speech," Harry agreed, goodnaturedly, beginning to stumble up from his chair.

Once he was up on his feet, and relatively steady, he felt more motivated than before and decided that if he was going to make a speech, he was going to give it his all and make it the best speech his friends had ever heard. Or something like that. To be completely truthful, Harry had sort of made up a little speech before he'd gone out that night, when he'd still been pre-drinking back at home with his family. He was going to talk about how grateful he was for all of his friends and their company, how happy he was that they'd all made it out to celebrate his milestone birthday that night, and of course, how excited he was to enter his eighteenth year of life, not least because he finally had the chance to discover his soulmate. Harry had been talking about this for years and years, and he was finally of age! It was _his_ turn. Harry's burning desire to find his soulmate had become a bit of a running joke amongst his friends, and Harry didn't mind playing up to that, so long as they all understood and accepted that sometimes it wasn't so much of a joke to Harry, which luckily they all did.

Harry smiled, running over the speech in his head, and cleared his throat dramatically. With one last glance back into the pub - more to make sure that there was no one inside watching him who would go and tell his parents if he was acting up than anything else - he began to haul himself up onto the table.

He just wanted to give himself a podium for what was sure to be the most epic speech the small town pub had ever seen, but Harry being Harry things really didn’t go to plan.

_"Harry, watch out - !"_

Harry registered the voice, but before he could even begin to process the warning, his foot slipped on some spilt alcohol on the table and he flailed desperately, trying to grab onto something - anything - to stop gravity from taking control of his body. He had just enough time and foresight to hold his arm out in front of him to protect his face as his entire world seemed to tilt and spin, and the concrete ground rushed up to meet him.

~~~

**01 February 2012, 10:35pm**

"That was No Light, No Light from Florence and the Machine there. A _wonderful_ track, that is. I enjoy that song a lot," Nick enthused as he slowly faded the tune out. "You've got to love a bit of Florence and her machine, right? I actually had to stop myself from singing along then. I don't really think any of you lovely listeners would have appreciated hearing my dulcet tones of an evening, so you can thank me later. Anyway, welcome to tonight's show. I'm Nick Grimshaw, if you've never tuned in before, and I'll be here with you for a few hours trying to keep you entertained this evening. I hope everyone has a great night, whatever it is you're doing. Let's move on to the next track now, shall we? Next up is Gotye's Somebody That - ah!"

Nick quickly jerked back from the microphone, the chair he was sitting in sliding back across the floor a little way as a sharp pain suddenly exploded along his arm and leg. He stared down at himself in confusion for a long moment before realising that he was currently live on air, and therefore broadcasting total silence to the nation. He quickly snapped himself out of it and pushed the chair back up to the microphone.

"Sorry, uh, sorry about that. I think I might have got a little electric shock there; shoddy BBC equipment. Though I guess I shouldn't say that, sorry, um - yeah, this is Somebody That I Used To Know," Nick spluttered out, and quickly turned the next track up, lining up Princess of China to play straight afterwards.

He moved away from the desk again, examining his still throbbing arm. He had described the feeling as an electric shock but, really, the skin was stinging as though he'd been cut. He poked experimentally at his knee, which was exposed through the rips in his skinny jeans, but the pressure didn't seem to make it hurt any worse. He couldn't see any signs of injury anywhere either. His skin was perfectly in tact, and not even slightly red or discoloured. He eyed the equipment in front of him carefully, trying to spot anything that could have actually shocked him, but he couldn't see anything obvious.

Nick's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he absentmindedly fumbled it out and unlocked it without really looking, still examining the desk before him.

He finally tore his gaze away and clicked through to his messages where the group chat had already sent him multiple messages asking him what had just happened, and checking he was okay.

Just as Nick was about to type out a reply, the pain in his arm suddenly intensified to the point where Nick gasped out again, relieved that he wasn't on the radio that time. Nick stared at the offending arm, as though he expected it to show him anything new. It didn't.

Nick's mind was spinning, trying to work out what on earth was happening to him. He considered getting up to make himself a cup of tea, maybe try to calm himself down a little bit if he'd gotten to the point where he was actually hallucinating but he stayed where he was instead, trying to think logically.

It _must_ have just been an electric shock, that was the only logical explanation. He must have spilt his coffee earlier and it had seeped through somewhere, or there was a loose cable or something that Nick had neglected to spot. Pain didn't just come out of nowhere. Although, before Nick had even finished that thought there was a niggling voice pushing its way into Nick's brain telling him that wasn't exactly true, was it? That's exactly what did happen, courtesy of your soulmate.

But, Nick was twenty-six years old. He had kind of given up on soulmates, and the whole idea of love in general, really, after Mark. Why would he be feeling a soulmate's pain _now,_ after waiting for so long?

 _Maybe it really was Mark all along…_ the voice was back, turned spiteful. _Maybe Mark didn't lie, maybe he really was your soulmate._ No! Nick forced his thoughts away from that path, he didn't want to go back down there, had travelled that path too many times in the past few years. He knew that it would do him no good to dwell on that time of his life. He was stronger than that now.

It probably wasn't anything that dramatic anyway. Nick laughed at himself, at his over-dramatics. He'd simply gotten a minor electric shock from something, a shock that was refusing to go away.

Nick typed out a reassuring reply to the group chat, before pushing himself back up to the desk again as Princess Of China came to an end. He forced himself to ignore the pain as he spoke smoothly into the microphone.

The show must go on.

~~~

**01 February 2012, 10:40pm**

"Louis, mate, are you alright?"

Louis looked up from the hunched position he had taken up on the sofa, one arm and one leg cradled close to his body. Stan was standing in the doorway, fingers curled loosely around a bottle and looking down at Louis with a look of concern on his face.

Louis forced his body to relax, not wanting to show any sort of weakness. He waved Stan away nonchalantly. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I think I must have worked myself harder than I thought moving all your shit out, it's all catching up to me now."

Stan scoffed at that, his features lightening again. Louis sighed in relief as his worried expression melted away into one of amusement.

"Bullshit!" Stan laughed as he walked over to the sofa. "You barely did anything!" He flopped down on the seat next to Louis and pushed playfully at him.

Louis tensed, expecting the soreness in his body to return. Luckily it didn't, but the tension didn't quite leave Louis’ body as he struggled to think of a response. In all honesty, he knew that he hadn't really injured himself moving Stan's things out. In fact, he'd probably been the laziest of the group that day. But he couldn't come up with any other explanation as to why his body was suddenly making him suffer; no explanation that didn't mean some serious medical condition, or something that Louis would never dwell on, anyway, so he was struggling a little bit to keep his cool.

He took a deep breath, letting out the air in a huffy exhale as he looked up at Stan from under his eyelashes. "Oh, thanks very much for that. I won't bother helping at all in the future, if that's all the gratitude I get," Louis complained, his voice a little tight, but Stan didn’t comment. "Jeez, 'thanks so much, Louis, for helping me move all of my things out of your flat so that I can leave you and Eleanor to pay a stupid amount of money to continue living in this shitty over-priced apartment. You're the greatest.', 'Oh, no, Stanley, please don't even mention it.'" Louis mocked, putting all of his limited acting skills into the finest sarcasm he could manage. He hadn't studied drama for most of his school life for nothing. Maybe it hadn't turned into a career for him, but at least it hadn't gone completely to waste.

Stan laughed as Louis shot him his meanest glare. "Shut the fuck up!"

Stan shoved at Louis again, this time the movement jostled Louis into the arm of the sofa and Louis bit back a groan.

Stan suddenly turned serious again and Louis' eyes widened thinking Stan had noticed. He was opening his mouth to create a distraction when Stan's hand landed gently on his shoulder.

"I am grateful, Lou. You know that, yeah? Thank you. You're going to be okay, aren't you?" Stan spoke sincerely, and Louis shifted under his suddenly intense gaze.

"Course," Louis said airily, shrugging the shoulder under Stan's hand and pushing himself up straighter. He smiled across at Stan. "I always am. Me and El are a great team, we'll manage together. Here, pass me that drink, would you, lad? I think we could both use one tonight."

Stan handed the cold bottle over and Louis took a long drink from its contents.

 _Some more than others,_ Louis thought as the alcohol made its way into his bloodstream.

~~~

**02 February 2012, 02:45am**

Harry flopped down onto his bed, his limbs starfishing out across the soft sheets. He moaned as he stretched his exhausted body out, holding the position for a long moment before letting himself relax into the sheets, sighing in bliss. It had been a long and eventful night, and he was ready to succumb to sleep.

Harry just about had the presence of mind to kick his shoes off, which wasn't an easy feat with his newly developed jelly-legs, and mainly involved a lot of shuffling around on the bed. He giggled at how violently the room was moving along with him, and shoved his face deep into his pillow to muffle the sound, not wanting his laughter to wake up the whole house.

The new position made his necklace dig painfully into his chest and he quickly shifted, drawing the cross up near his face and running his fingers over it in the darkness. His mum had given him the necklace for his birthday and he had put it on immediately, hoped that it would bring him good luck, for the future, and for finding his soulmate specifically.

Maybe he was a little fixated on the whole soulmate system, especially for someone of his age, but in Harry's opinion there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. This was _destiny,_ and it was all just _so romantic._ He was a bit of a hopeless romantic, really, and this was the sort of thing he had always grown up hearing about. It was like a fairytale or something, but the difference was that it could and _would_ happen to Harry, too! His big sister had met her soulmate when she was only 19 years old, and that was just a year older than Harry now. Harry had been so incredibly jealous of her when she'd first felt her soulmate’s pain, had gasped in envy while Gemma had been practically bent double in agony. Gemma hadn't understood at the time, but Harry definitely had.

After that, Harry had to endure years of Gemma and her soulmate being right there in his life. A constant reminder of what could be.

Now, he was finally old enough to find his own, after a lifetime of waiting.

Harry fell asleep with the cross still clutched between his fingers, silhouettes and faceless images of his soulmate playing on his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think there's any warnings needed for this chapter, however there are a few mentions of a strip club because that is where Harry works. Nothing graphic though so it should all be okay!

**Four years later...**

"Aha! Come here, you -"

Harry smiled triumphantly as he finally snagged a hold of the thin chain of his necklace. He'd dropped it down the side of his bed five minutes ago and had been struggling to get it back into his life ever since.

He tapped it admonishingly and then slipped it on around his neck, leaning in to check on his appearance in the small mirror balancing precariously on the windowsill in front of him.

"Harry, come on, we're going to be so late!"

Harry rolled his eyes. This was the third time Liam had called for him, each time getting more and more impatient. Harry was trying his best! He wasn't about to go anywhere without wearing his necklace, though. He hadn't gone a day without wearing it since his eighteenth birthday, when his mum had given it to him as a gift. He considered it a good luck charm, and although admittedly it hadn't brought him any amazing life-changing luck in the time he'd had it, it had also seemed to ward off any horrifically bad luck so he counted it as a win. He still loved the necklace dearly.

He examined his reflection in the mirror critically, not too impressed with what he saw. He had tried a new eyeliner look that night and it wasn't as neat as he would have ideally liked it to be. He much preferred using natural lighting for applying his makeup, anyway, but the sun was quickly fading in the sky, and he had found himself rushing far more than he'd normally like.

"Harry! Are you nearly done now?" Liam knocked sharply on Harry's bedroom door, just as Harry swept all of his makeup items off of the windowsill and back into his bag.

"No," Harry muttered under his breath as he got up from the bed, looking around his small bedroom for a t-shirt to throw on.

The door to his bedroom flung open before he had time to find one, and Harry gasped, mock-outraged, hands flying up to cover his chest. "Excuse me, Liam! How dare you abuse my modesty like that?!"

Liam scoffed. "Have you forgotten what we're rushing off to? Or _supposed_ to be rushing off to, really," he said with a pointed look at Harry's current half-dressed state.

"I'm getting there!" Harry protested, finally spotting a clean black t-shirt and pulling it on. "And actually I'm only working the floor tonight. So, no modesty-abusing for me."

He turned back to his mirror, ruffling his hair and bending down to get a look. Straightening back up again, he turned to face Liam, spreading his arms for approval.

Liam gave him a quick once-over and nodded briskly. "You look good, Haz. That eyeliner is a great touch." Harry barely had time to revel in the praise before Liam's soft complimentary tone turned back into the demanding one Harry had grown used to. "Now can we _please_ go. Ben is going to be so pissed at us!"

"We're not even that late!" Harry objected, bending down to pick up his bag from the floor. "And Ben won’t mind. He loves me!"

Liam tutted at Harry's comment, but it was true. Ben and Harry had quite a large soft spot for each other. Where the other workers all saw Ben as a bit of a tyrannical boss, Harry had always found him to be very supportive and lenient from the day he'd started working for him.

"Have you seen my gold jacket anywhere?" Harry asked idly, looking around for the item of clothing.

Liam let out an exasperated sigh. Harry tried not to take it personally.

"It's in the living room where you dumped it last night. Come on! Let's go, let's go,” Liam urged, hurrying Harry out of his room.

Harry barely had time to shove his feet into his boots before Liam literally pulled him from his bedroom. Harry hobbled down the narrow hallway, trying to fit his boots on comfortably as he went. He just about managed to pluck his jacket from the sofa on his way past before he was being yanked outside into the cold London evening.

Harry loved Liam a lot, but he could be very controlling when it came to time management. Liam considered anyone who wasn't at an event ten minutes early to be committing a sin. To be kept waiting was completely unheard of when you were friends with Liam Payne.

"I'm driving us there and back tonight, alright?" Liam asked, not bothering to wait for Harry's reply.

Liam was already speeding down the road towards his car, leaving Harry with no choice other than to follow quickly at his heel, genuinely a little worried that he was going to get left behind.

"I thought this would be easier than waiting for the bus, especially as we're on practically the same shift tonight," Liam explained once they were settled inside the car, already reversing out of the parking space.

"Yeah, that’s fine," Harry shrugged easily, reaching down to finally pull his boot on properly.

Harry didn't really care how he got to work as long as he got there eventually, but getting back was always a little more difficult, working on such a late schedule. He knew that Liam worried about him travelling back home on his own, the same as Harry worried about Liam whenever he had to do it, so he was grateful for the lift.

"Have you thought any more about scene work?" Liam asked casually a few minutes later, as they navigated the streets of London. "No pressure," he tacked on quickly.

"No, I haven't really thought about it," Harry answered. "I probably will do it at some point thought, yeah. Just not sure when. We can maybe talk to Ben about it tonight if you like?"

"I don't want to force you into it," Liam said. "Especially with your, you know -"

"My lack of sexual interest," Harry finished for him, a smile playing on his lips. Liam tried, bless him. "I know, it's fine. I've told you before, it's not like I'm repulsed. I wouldn't have even considered taking this job in the first place, if that was the case, you know that. I just won't feel any sexual attraction towards you while you're doing it, Liam. Sorry to break it to you."

Liam pulled an exaggeratedly sad face and then laughed, Harry dimpling across at him.

"Nah, no worries, man," Liam said. "I promise I won't take offence. We can talk to Ben if we find the time, yeah. I'm sure he'll be able to sort something out."

The two of them fell into a comfortable silence, and Harry eventually turned away from Liam to look out of the passenger window at the busy streets of London.

Harry had been working at Stripster with Liam for nearly a year, and he honestly didn't regret a single minute of it. 

His family back at home had been a little bit perturbed when he'd told them all about his new job. They had always been very protective over him, even more so since he'd moved to London, and they didn't want to see him exploited in any way, but Harry had promised them that everything he was doing was completely his choice. Harry had drawn the line at his mum coming down to see him at work, but had agreed to compromise with Gemma paying him a visit instead. Luckily, for everyone involved, Harry had just been working as a bartender that night but Gemma had been able to look around the whole club and scope it out a little. She had even spoken in great length to Ben about the way he ran the club, and she had left completely reassured that Harry was not putting himself in any danger.

Harry was very lucky with the colleagues he had; they had all been so supportive and understanding of who he was as a person, and the whole team made sure to look out for each other anyway. It really was the perfect working environment, despite the not so desirable setting.

Liam had already been working there for a while when Harry moved in with him - a fact Liam had neglected to mention during the two years they had spent at university together - and when Liam had first told Harry about the job opening, Harry had openly laughed in his face. It was like some sort of cliche joke; _the asexual walked into the strip club…_ But Liam had assured him that he was serious, and asked him to come down and at least get a feel for the atmosphere.

So after some more gentle persuasion from Liam, Harry agreed to go and see what the club was like, willing to give most things in life a try before ruling them out completely. He had actually been pleasantly surprised. It was obvious from the start that this wasn't some sleazy business. Everyone had been so friendly and seemed genuinely happy there, and there hadn't even been any full nudity that night; a few topless guys wandering around here and there was about as far as it went. Harry quickly learned that full nudity was actually quite rare at Stripster, unless you were to venture into one of the more x-rated private rooms, which Harry made an effort not to do.

Liam had introduced Harry to Ben that night, his boss and the owner of the club, and the two of them had hit it off straight away. Ben had mentioned quite early on in their conversation that he had found his soulmate - his _wife,_ now - when he was only twenty years old, and Harry had sighed longingly. It was the perfect conversational topic for him - he would sit and talk for hours about soulmates if he was given the chance - and the two of them had actually had quite an in-depth conversation about the whole soulmate system. Harry had told Ben about how he'd been convinced, when he had just turned eighteen, that his soulmate must have been the clumsiest person in the world, as Harry was always getting hurt. But, his friends at the time had pointed out that he also always had bruises on him wherever he was complaining of hurting, and that wasn't quite how the pain sharing worked. Harry had pouted as Ben laughed at him, poking fun at him like his friends used to do.

It was just easy talking to Ben, and Harry was pretty sure they both felt the connection. At the end of the conversation, Ben had said that if Harry wanted to accept the job offer, it was his. Harry had blushed as Ben told him he was obviously a very charming and open person, and that he was sure the customers at the club would absolutely love him. It was all clearly very positive feedback, but Harry had still balked slightly. He didn't make a habit of coming out to near-strangers, only a few people in his life knew about his sexuality in the first place, but he had already shared a lot with Ben and figured it was kind of an important point to mention.

"I'm - uh - I'm actually asexual," Harry had said, as casually as he could manage, even as he'd felt the slight shaking in his hands that came with telling some new, saying the words out loud. "So I don't know if I'd exactly fit in here."

Harry had been expecting to have to launch into an explanation of what asexuality actually was, so he was surprised when Ben had shaken his head immediately. "That's not a problem with me, if it isn't a problem with you. Of course I would completely understand if you choose not to join our team, but if you're comfortable with it, the job is still yours. We could tailor the job role for you if that would help; so we could just have you serving at the bar or working the floor and looking pretty, if that was all you wanted to do. You would never need to feel obligated to take part in anything you didn’t want to do."

Harry had felt so accepted and valid that he had agreed to go along for a job trial the very next night, and had instantly fitted in with the staff already on duty so easily that he couldn't even consider saying no when Ben had approached him at the end of the trial. He'd been given the job there and then, and hadn't looked back since.

Of course, working alongside his flatmate and closest friend in London was a big bonus, and he had developed a very close friendship with Ben as time went on, as well. Although the two of them took on very different job roles than Harry did. While Ben rarely even ventured out into the club at all - instead choosing to remain in his office and oversee things from in there, making sure everything was running smoothly and safely - Liam was fully submerged in the whole scene, even performing _in_ scenes for customers in the private rooms.

This was a relatively new development, and it had started at around the same time that Harry had begun branching out and dancing on the main stage every so often - always on his terms; he'd made that very clear to Ben. If he was going to dance, it was only going to be because he chose to, and luckily Ben continued to be very understanding, and allowed this.

Harry had found himself oddly intrigued from the very first time Liam had described a scene to him. It was never anything Harry would have considered before, not in a million years. The thought wouldn't have even crossed his mind, despite how much time he spent in the close proximity of the private rooms, but for some reason, hearing Liam talk about it had Harry enthralled.

Harry had mentioned about a week ago that he might be interested in subbing for Liam in a scene, to see what it was like, and Liam hadn't stopped asking him about it since, although he never made Harry feel pressured about it. Liam was easily the most considerate and caring person Harry had met and if Harry was ever going to go into one of the private rooms, he literally couldn't think of anyone he'd want to do it with besides Liam.

Harry had zoned out a little on the journey, his head resting against the back of his seat, face still turned towards the window, so he was startled out of his thoughts when a hand suddenly landed gently on his thigh.

"Sorry, mate, I didn't mean to make you jump," Liam said softly. "We're here. You were completely somewhere else then, weren't you?" He laughed, reaching into the backseat for their bags.

"Yeah, I kind of was. Sorry!" Harry apologised sheepishly, chuckling as he unbuckled his seatbelt. He reached over and took his bag from Liam. "Come on, let's get in there. Can't keep Ben waiting any longer, can we!"

~~~

Nick leaned back in his chair, surveying the room at large. The sheer amount of people stuffed inside his little studio booth was slightly overwhelming on its own, but they were all so _loud._ It was a mammoth task for Nick to get them all to stay quiet enough for him to do a link properly, and while the songs were playing and the mics were turned off, the noise was unfiltered. Everyone was slightly tipsy, himself included, and it was as though his small radio show had transformed itself into a huge party; albeit one shoved into a very limited space.

It was Nick's last ever night time show before he was due to make the move to the much coveted breakfast show. This was a _huge_ deal to Nick, as it had pretty much been his dream job since he was very young. He had always aspired to be an entertainer of some sort, and had taken on a few dodgy jobs in his life to try and achieve that dream. When he had landed the BBC night time slot he had honestly thought his life had been made, that he was set for life. He had stayed in that job quite comfortably for five years, and had not been expecting it in the slightest when one of the big bosses had approached him and explained to him how the presenter of the breakfast show was due to retire. Nick still hadn't really twigged what was happening, had just listened politely while he was spoken at by important-looking people, and wondered what he was supposed to do with that news besides give his night time listeners a heads up about the change. Nick had actually asked them to repeat themselves when they had said he would be perfect for the breakfast show if he wanted to take it, hadn't dared to believe what he thought he was hearing.

Nick prided himself on keeping his emotions very much in check in his life. This wasn't for any particular reason; he just didn't see the point in openly showing everything he felt inside. That was personal, for him. But, nevertheless, Nick had cried there and then in the meeting room, he had cried on the phone to his parents later that day, and he had cried snuggled up to dear Pig that night in bed. Everyone had been so supportive, and had given him such amazing advice that he tried his best to take on board. He was nervous about the move, of course he was; it was a huge change for him, and a hugely listened to show. There was definitely a lot of pressure, and he needed all of the support and guidance he could get, really.

Luckily, he had some really good people in his life, and pretty much his entire group of friends had made sure they had the evening free so they could all come down to the studio and celebrate this momentous occasion with him. It had turned into a huge send off for him, and Nick was basking in all of the attention.

As the current track faded out, Nick leaned into the microphone, having to raise his voice a little to be heard over the noise.

"Alright, alright. Can you please lower the volume, you hooligans! This is my actual job here - for one more night, anyway. I'm trying to work!" Nick spoke half into the mic, eyes crinkling with laughter as the group turned as one to look at him, outraged.

"Excuse me, Nicholas Grimshaw," Pixie began, loud and belligerent, and Nick scowled at her as she leaned into his personal space, preparing to speak into the microphone.

Nick poised his finger ready to quickly switch to a track in case Pixie became too inappropriate live on air.

"We have chosen to miss out on a night at our  _ favourite  _ club to come and be here, showing our support for our beloved friend!" Pixie continued, only slurring her words ever so slightly. "The least you can do is let us enjoy ourselves while we're here!"

Nick sighed exaggeratedly. "There it is. I knew we couldn't go one night without mentioning that damn club. I  _ knew _ we wouldn't manage it. Sorry, everyone; we have officially mentioned Stripster every single show for the past… six months, or so, now?"

"We're giving them free promo," Pixie protested. "They should be thanking us, like maybe with free dances? Or free alcohol would do."

Nick glared at her. "You can't say that! You're going to get me in trouble!"

"Just a suggestion," Pixie pouted, moving away from the mic to grab her nearly empty glass from the side. "We'd be very grateful," she called, her voice carrying across the room.

Nick rolled his eyes in response, and continued to speak into the microphone. "Right, moving on. Let's see if we've got any well-wishers via text. It is my  _ last ever  _ night time show, in case you didn't know," he said, pulling up the texts on his screen. "Yes, we've got a couple here! Aww, there's a lovely message from Diana, saying that I will be missed on the night time show and it won't be the same without me - "

"You sent that to yourself!" Henry shouted from the back of the room.

"No, I definitely did not," Nick snapped. "Thank you so much, Diana, for your kind words. I'm not disappearing completely, though! I'm going to be taking a break from the radio for a little while, but in September you can go ahead and listen to me on the breakfast show if you want to! And if you're awake that early, of course. Thank you again, have a great night! We have another message here. Ooh, requesting a shoutout. Cheeky! I suppose it's only fair after all the promo we've given to Stripster."

Pixie cheered loudly at the mention of the club, waving her glass in the air.

"Please try not to break anything, Pix," Nick scolded. "Okay, so, shoutout to the staff members at the All Ours diner, especially Niall, who has texted in this evening. Thank you all for tuning in tonight, have a good one! Everyone go and say hi to Niall if you're ever in All Ours! Right, then, I suppose we'd better get back to playing some actual music, as I'm sure that's what most of you have tuned in for - more so than the unpaid promotion I seem to be doing tonight, anyway. So here's a bit of a throwback with Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol.”

Nick set the song to play, and set two more to follow, before leaning back in his chair with a sigh.

Pixie sidled up to him, Henry in tow. She held out a fresh glass for Nick, and he took it gratefully, taking a long drink from it.

"So," Pixie began, oh-so-casually, "Speaking of Stripster - "

"We're not speaking of Stripster," Nick interrupted. "Stop talking about Stripster!"

" _Speaking of Stripster,_ when are you going to finally show your face? You have no excuse now your schedule's all changed round," she pressed. "Come on, you  _ know  _ you're going to love it there!"

Nick's friends - Pixie and Henry being the obvious main culprits - had been begging Nick for months and months to give their absolute favourite club, Stripster, a go. They had discovered it completely by chance one night and had immediately texted Nick whilst he was on air, asking him if he'd ever been there before, because it was  _ right up his alley.  _ When Nick had told them he hadn't even heard of the place, they informed him that he really needed to go, had even tried to persuade him to go out after the show that same night.

While Nick politely declined, his friends returned to the club again and again. Before long it became their regular night scene, and they would continuously send Nick messages and selfies from the club, always coming to him with a new story to tell him about a new worker they had seen, or a friend they had made that night, and Nick was quite honestly intrigued.

It wasn't even like he didn’t want to go, that's the thing. He definitely wanted to see what all the fuss was about, but he had just been unable to find the time to. His late night work schedule meant that he was either working if it was a weeknight, or he was simply too tired to think about getting out of bed and dragging himself across London over the weekend.

"Yes, and _you_  know I'm all for coming down one night," Nick said, not for the first time. "You've talked this place up enough that I'm expecting full blown miracles by now!"

"It's such a good night out," Henry chimed in. "Lots of eye candy, good alcohol, and great music. Really, what is not to like?"

"We'll have to see how my time off goes," Nick said, smiling at Henry's succinct review. "You know, just see how tired I am and how much free time I actually have, and whatever. But I am thinking of coming down with you soon, yeah."

"You won't regret it, Grim, honestly! You'll have the best time!" Pixie exclaimed, practically clapping her hands together, she was so excited.

Nick quickly reached out to take her glass away from her, trying to prevent any spillages on the electrical equipment around him. 

Shaking his head fondly, he ducked his head and finished the rest of his drink. He couldn't help but wonder just what made this place so damn special that would make his friends so desperate for him to tag along. 

Nick guessed he would get the chance to find out soon. He just had to tackle the small matter of taking on the breakfast show first.

~~~

"Shit!" Louis cursed as the glass shattered noisily at his feet. "Shit, shit, shit!"

He quickly but carefully deposited the rest of the crockery he was carrying safely by the side of the sink, ready to be washed up, and hurried to find something to use to sweep the broken glass up.

He had just finished clearing the bigger shards up, and was on his hands and knees, checking that there was nothing left on the ground, when Niall came bustling in through the staff door.

"Shoutout to the staff members at the All Ours diner," he announced exuberantly to the room at large.

Louis looked up, disgruntled. "Will you stop with that?"

Niall's gaze fell on Louis, crouched on the floor. "Oh no, Louis! What did you do?"

"I didn't  _ do  _ anything. I just fancied a little rest, Niall," Louis snarked, eyes back on the ground, scouring for any remaining glass.

"Oi, mind you don't cut yourself there, mate. You wouldn't want to hurt your  _ soulmate,  _ right?" Niall quipped as he dodged past Louis to the sink.

When Louis looked up, his face already fixed into a glare which he fully trained onto Niall, Niall was already smirking down at him.

Louis pointed at him with his free hand. "We don't talk about soulmates. They don't exist," he said simply, moving to empty the dustpan of broken glass into the bin. "End of."

He pushed the sleeves of his soft cable knit jumper further up his arms and shimmied past Niall to get to work on the washing up.

Niall made himself comfortable, hopping up to sit on the counter beside Louis, swinging his legs blithely, and clearly not even considering giving Louis a helping hand.  _ Useless colleague. _

"I wonder when I'll feel my mate's pain," Niall wondered, gazing off into space dreamily, lost in his romantic little thoughts. Obviously hadn’t paid any attention to Louis' previous comment, then, as per usual. "I mean, I'm twenty-two. That's kind of an average age, isn't it?"

"Your 'mate'," Louis scoffed, scrubbing a little too aggressively at the plate he was working on.

"Well, yeah, we'll be mates!" Niall smiled, unbothered, or just not noticing. "Of course we will."

Louis sighed, exasperated. "Yeah, if only that was where it stopped, though. Why does all of this soulmate nonsense have to be automatically coupled with romance and heart eyes and all that lovey-dovey shite? Why can't it be that you're - I don’t know - destined to have a best friend, or a drinking buddy, or something?"

Niall shrugged. "I don't know, man. It's just the way the world works, isn't it? You know, you fall in love and get married and make babies, not necessarily in that order."

"You're gay, Nialler. You can't make babies,” Louis pointed out, deliberately ignoring the first part of Niall's statement. He'd heard that sort of statement way too often in his life, and it still stung if he let it get to him.

"Well, I dunno, do I? I didn't make the rules!" Niall huffed. "Maybe my mate will be, like, a doctor or a scientist or something, and they can make that happen?"

Louis shook his head, reaching for a towel to dry his hands with.

The truth was, Louis would be more than happy with his lot in life, if he was never to meet his soulmate for as long as he lived. But the simple fact was he knew that he had one, somewhere. He had started feeling their pain a few years ago, around the same time his whole plans for his future in London had started to fall through, actually.

If Louis was honest, he'd been convinced that London, in general, was kind of cursed for him. It was probably just a case of bad timing, and a sequence of strange coincidences, but that didn't change the way Louis felt.

He had moved to London when he was nineteen years old with his best friends, Stan and Eleanor, and they had all moved into a flat together. At the time, Louis was aspiring to be a professional footballer, and had been trying to follow in the footsteps of some of his favourite footballing idols by making the move to London. His reasoning was simply that he would be much more likely to be spotted and signed there than he would have been back home in Doncaster. While this was probably technically true, it hadn't been as easy or idealistic to achieve as just kicking a football around and getting stumbled upon, and the unexpected hard work had really taken it out of Louis to the point where he would actually dread going out and trying to find the perfect opportunity for himself.

After a few months of living in that flat, with very minimal income, which was nothing to do with Louis - both Stan and Eleanor were studying at the same university nearby and had gotten themselves part time jobs through connections there - things had become far too fraught between the three of them. They were all arguing more and more frequently and it just wasn't a pleasant atmosphere at all. Between them, they had mutually decided that it would be the best thing for all of them if they were to separate a little. Stan found himself a place with student accommodation pretty quickly after that and started making plans to move on, but Eleanor struggled to do so and decided to take on more hours at her job instead so she could stay in the flat with Louis, which Louis was very grateful for as he would not have managed on his own at all.

A short while after Stan had moved out, Louis had stumbled across a job opportunity at a diner in Shoreditch which paid really well because of the difficult working hours needed, most of them being very late at night and into the early hours of the morning. However, because Louis had no other real obligations in London, that didn't really bother him, so he applied for the position and was lucky enough to get the job just like that. Louis tried to ignore the irony of this fact; that he had been in London for over a year trying to get a specific career going for himself, and had stumbled upon something entirely different in twenty-four hours.

It was at this new job that Louis had met Niall, who worked very similar hours to Louis. Niall was quite honestly the main factor that was keeping Louis sane. He was always like a little ray of sunshine, brightening Louis' day no matter what sort of mood he arrived at work in, and they were always very varied moods so Niall was a bit of a saint for putting up with him. Louis was very grateful for Niall's unwavering loyalty and support. He was just a very genuine good lad, even if he didn't completely understand Louis' attitude towards soulmates.

Louis identified as aromantic, which meant that he didn't experience romantic attraction to anyone, regardless of gender or any other factor. He hadn't always identified as this - he had always _felt_ the same way, and nothing ever changed in regards to his attraction towards people, but he didn't really know what to label himself as for many years of his life. He had assumed that he was bi for a long time because he felt the same amount of attraction towards both genders - it just so happened that the amount of attraction he felt was very minimal to the point of being non-existent - so he thought it counted. All he knew was that he never felt the need or desire for a romantic relationship with anybody. When all of his friends were becoming interested in romance and dating and coupling off with each other, even before they were of age to find their soulmates, Louis couldn't find that interest within himself at all. His friends had always told him that it was admirable that Louis was waiting, saving himself for his soulmate, but that wasn’t really what he was doing. He just found the whole concept a little bit pointless.

He has finally come across the word aromantic one desperate day, when he had been at his lowest, in an online search, and had felt an instant connection to the word's definition. He had spent the following few hours reading through everything he could find about the identity. Louis felt more valid and more comfortable in himself than he ever had done before.

When Louis had turned eighteen, he'd been on edge for the first few weeks or so, constantly waiting to feel an unexpected pain somewhere in his body. Any pain he did feel, no matter how small, he would immediately fly into a panic, thinking,  _ this is it; it's happening to me,  _ and then a huge wave of relief would rush over him when he spotted a mark on his skin and he was able to breathe again.

Of course, a couple of years later, Louis had started becoming aware of more and more random sparks of pain flaring up, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't see anything on his skin. He forced himself to remain calm about it, even as his stomach turned.

His comments about how soulmates should be entirely platonic might have always come across as a joke, because that had always been Louis' way of subtly 'coming out' to people, but he meant every word entirely. The idea of being destined -  _ forced,  _ really - to be in a romantic relationship with someone was enough to make Louis' skin crawl.

Louis always tried to comfort himself with the knowledge that there were billions and billions of people in the world, and some people never even got to meet their soulmate in person. Maybe he would be one of the lucky ones and never have to come into contact with his.

_ A boy can dream. _

"Whatever," Louis sighed, not wanting to get into the whole discussion with Niall that night. He started walking over to the door. "How's it looking out there, Ni?" He asked instead, trying for a subject change.

"It's not too bad tonight, to be honest," Niall said, slipping down from the counter. "I really thought business would be booming thanks to Nick Grimshaw, you know!"

"Yes, isn't it funny how Nick Grimshaw has way less influence on the population than you thought? Who would have called that!" Louis laughed, looking back over his shoulder at Niall as he made his way back out into the diner.

He tipped his head back and laughed even harder at the look of outrage on Niall's face, letting the door click shut between them.

The smile still lingered on Louis' face as he looked around the diner, and only grew when his gaze fell onto one of the two occupied tables in the area. Louis' eyes instantly lit up, and he stood on his tiptoes, trying to see over the guy's shoulder to check whether he had ordered yet or not. When it didn't look as though he had done, Louis approached the table happily.

"Hey again!" Louis said cheerily when he was within earshot, and moved round the table so he could be seen. The boy's head popped up from where he had been fiddling with his phone.

He smiled brightly up at Louis, running a hand absentmindedly through his long hair and touching the springy curls at the end, a habit Louis had picked up on from their very first meeting.

"Hello! How are you?" The boy enquired. His voice seemed especially deep and slow that night.

Louis scanned the face in front of him for any sign of recognition, smiling to himself and shaking his head slightly when he saw no flicker in those eyes.

"I'm fine, thank you. Are you good?" Louis asked, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.

"I'm good," the boy nodded, smiling a smile that touched his entire face. It was as though he was lit up from inside, or something. He really was very pretty.

"That's great! Did work go alright?" Louis pressed. "Or have you not got there yet?"

The boy looked a little surprised at Louis' comment, and Louis had to physically bite back a laugh.

This boy had been in the All Ours diner almost every night that week - Louis found out that he worked at a club not too far away - and Louis had struck up a conversation with him the very first night he'd shown up. 

The next night he had come in again, and Louis had been serving someone else but had made a special effort to pop over to see him. Although he needn't have bothered because when Louis had first approached him, the boy seemed to have no recollection of meeting him before. Louis had originally thought the boy was just playing a joke on him, but when it had become apparent that wasn't the case, he had been a little offended. Louis was  _ wonderful,  _ how could anyone forget meeting him?

After a few long minutes of slightly painful conversation, something had clicked into place on the boy's face, and the two of them had picked up where they'd left off the night before. As the week went on, it had turned into a little game for Louis.  _ How long would it be this time before this boy remembered who he was talking to? _

Louis had learned that the boy was always either sleep-deprived, a little tipsy, or a combination of the two, when he visited their diner. Despite that, or maybe  _ because  _ of that - it was  _ endearing,  _ okay? - the boy always came across as so charming and lovely. He just seemed like a very genuine person, and Louis had begun to look forward to spotting his curly head pop into the diner of a night time. He really enjoyed spending time in his company.

Louis didn't hate his job, not by a long shot. The majority of the customers in the diner were generally very friendly anyway as it wasn't exactly an environment that attracted heavy drinkers or the crowd of people who were likely to get a bit argumentative on a night out. But even still, when there was a customer like this who seemed to genuinely enjoy speaking to Louis, as well - even if they did forget all about him as soon as they left the diner,  _ whatever  _ \- it just made his job feel even more worthwhile.

"I've just finished, actually," the boy replied, ever so slowly. "I'm really tired, and my flatmate is working a little later than me tonight. Oh, I work with my flatmate - I should have mentioned that. So, yeah, I thought I'd better come in here and get some coffee to keep me awake until he's finished, and then we can head home together."

Louis bit his lip, trying to conceal his grin. "So that means you would like to order a coffee, then?"

"Oh! Yes, please. Thank you," the boy bit his lip sheepishly. "Just black would be perfect. Thank so much!"

"No problem, I'll just go and get that for you," Louis said, smiling.

"You're a star!" The boy beamed up at him, and Louis quickly turned away from the table to hide the fact that he had suddenly found himself fighting a blush.

Louis casually observed the boy over the bar as he set to work preparing the coffee for him. Where the hell had this strange, lovely human come from?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that you can watch the trailer for this fic here if you want to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GcDf6r9fn3M (but be aware of minor spoilers if that would bother you!)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** Warning for this chapter: brief mention of spanking (but not explicit at all), and again mentions of a strip club - this will probably be a regular one! ***

Nick had told his friends again and again that he would go and visit the famous Stripster club, and he had been fully intending to follow through on that promise at some point. He just hadn't expected that it would happen so soon into his break. Nick thought that he would have a bit of self-restraint and play it at least a little cool, but he somehow found himself in the back of a taxi on his way to the damn club, alone. He had decided to go so last minute that none of his friends had been available to accompany him, although they had all assured him that he wouldn't regret it, and they'd made him promise to report back to them on what he thought of the place.

The lack of a time schedule hadn't gone down well with Nick, and his body clock still decided to keep him awake at the most inappropriate times. It was a Friday night, and he had been tossing and turning in bed for hours, trying desperately to get comfortable and just drop off to sleep, but he'd had no such luck.

He had eventually got up and paced around the flat for a little bit, Pig trotting at his heels, completely confused as to what her owner was up to. She was probably wondering if they were about to go out together for a late night walk, which had actually become a pretty regular occurrence, thanks yet again to Nick's body clock going completely wrong. 

Nick just wasn't getting tired that night though, no matter what he tried, so he decided, why not make the most of it? He didn't have anything to wake up early for the next day, it being a weekend and all - small mercies - so he really had nothing stopping him.

It had just seemed like the perfect opportunity, so Nick had pulled on some more presentable looking clothes and called for a taxi. Which brought him to where he was currently.

Nick thanked the driver on his way out of the car, tipping generously because now that he was actually outside and breathing in London's nightlife atmosphere, he was in a pretty good mood. He was ready to take on the night.

Nick managed to locate the club pretty easily after a short walk, and slipped straight inside. He was somehow able to find a spare seat inside the club to perch on, although he wasn't really sure how because the first thing he noticed about the place was just how packed it was, but not oppressively so. It was as though Nick could instantly see the appeal of the club, could see what it was that would have made his friends come back time and time again.

The overall colour scheme of the club was very clearly black and gold. There were black tables with gold edges, various black or gold chairs dotted around, the floor of the club was black, there were gold spotlights moving around the room, black and gold posts, and just very black and gold decor in general. The workers' didn't seem to have a set uniform as such, although they were all dressed in black from head to toe with a gold name badge attached somewhere. There were also a few shirtless guys wandering around, wearing either black jeans or just a small pair of black pants with the gold badges attached to their waistbands. Nick got slight body envy when a very heavily muscled guy squeezed right past him. This probably wasn't the best night out for the body confidence. He would have to remember not to come in here if he was having a bad self esteem day.

There was a stage running along one wall of the room, with the bar nearby it, a door on the wall separating the two, and there were currently two workers up on the stage. One of them was dressed in small black pants and the other was wearing a black t-shirt and a ridiculously tight pair of skinny jeans. They were both moving their bodies expertly to the beat of the music playing, and they had gathered quite a large crowd, who were all watching them intently. There was a very muscled, official looking man stood close by the stage, who Nick assumed was security for the dancers.

Nick watched the performance until the song ended and another one began, and then decided to go and get himself a drink. He made his way through the busy room to the long bar and slipped into a vacant spot.

He leaned up against the bar and prepared himself for a long wait; Nick always had the worst luck at getting served at pubs and clubs, was always overlooked by the bartenders or pushed in front of by other customers.

He was taken by surprise, therefore, when less than a minute later one of the bartenders approached him, bopping along slightly to the music. His hair was long enough to need to be tied up into a bun, which was sat neatly on the top of his head and jiggling along with his dancing. 

"Hiya, love," the man said when he was within earshot, voice raised slightly over the volume of the club. "How are you doing tonight?"

"Hey, I'm good, thank you. Do I detect a Northern accent?" Nick shouted over the bar.

"You do, indeed! I hear one, too. Fancy that!" The man beamed at Nick, eyes crinkling. Nick noted that he was wearing a sparkly gold eyeliner that made the green of his eyes pop even in the dim lighting. "I'm Harry," he said, indicating the name badge pinned to his shirt.

"Ooh, I like your nails!" Nick commented, as he followed the movement and noticed the nail varnish Harry was also sporting.

"Thank you! I did them myself just this afternoon, they were a pain in the ass to get right, but I think I did a good job," Harry said, holding out his hand for Nick to get a closer look.

"You did a great job!" Nick said, and he genuinely meant it. They were in keeping with the club's colour scheme, which was a nice subtle touch, painted a shiny black all over with two thin strips of sparkly gold on each nail in the shape of a cross. He was also wearing a solid black ring on his middle finger and Nick wondered if he had a gold ring somewhere that he swapped it out for, or if the inside of the one he was wearing was gold. "They're really cool!"

Harry beamed at that and Nick spotted a dimple. He was an absolute sucker for dimples, always had been.

"Aw, thank you so much! I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name, love."

"Oh, god! That's so rude of me!" Nick exclaimed. "I'm Nick, hiya." He waved awkwardly and then immediately cringed at himself, but Harry didn't seem to mind and returned the wave happily.

"And what can I get for you, Nick?" He asked, resting his hands on the top of the bar and leaning over towards Nick.

"Uhh - just a vodka cranberry would be great, thank you."

"Ooh, excellent choice!" Harry smiled, and turned away to begin preparing Nick's drink. He resumed dancing to the music when his back was turned and Nick wondered if that was something that they were told to do, it being a strip club and all - kind of centred around dancing, he supposed - but a quick look down the bar told him that wasn't the case.

Nick was still smiling to himself at the sight when Harry turned back to face him, and Harry grinned in response as he started to pour the drink.

"Is this your first time here?" Harry asked, gaze focused on the drink in front of him, but flicking his eyes up to Nick's face to see Nick's response.

"Yeah, it is actually. My friends have all spoken very highly of this place so I thought I'd better see what all the fuss was about," Nick said, leaning over the bar a little so he could be heard properly.

"Oh, yeah?" Harry said, as he slid the drink across the bar towards Nick. The glass left a trail of condensation in its wake, which Harry quickly wiped up. "There you go, that's £3.15, please. So, are we living up to those high expectations?" He asked, a small smirk on his face as he looked at Nick expectantly.

Nick handed the money over to Harry, and he deposited it in the till, still looking across at Nick.

"Yeah, I think you are," Nick replied, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face. He took a sip of his drink, humming appreciatively. "Oh, this is so good, thank you!"

"No problem. Let me know if there's anything else I can get for you, yeah? Have a great night!" Harry said.

He had a very slow way of speaking, but Nick still found himself hanging on every word he said. He smiled gratefully, wishing Harry a good night as well before moving away from the bar, cradling his drink carefully.

The place Nick had been sitting in had been occupied in his absence, but he quickly scoped out another and flopped down into it happily.

There was a different dancer on the stage now, dancing solo in only his pants. Nick sent a message into the group chat, saying that he was having an adequate time so far,  _ he supposed,  _ along with a grinning selfie, his red drink in the shot.

And he continued to have a genuinely good time for the rest of the night. He nursed his drink for as long as he could, wanting to make it last as he took in the atmosphere of the club, the buzz around him. When he eventually went back up to the bar for a new drink, he found himself feeling just a little disappointed when he noticed that Harry was gone. However, Nick got another equally well-made vodka and cranberry from a guy with incredible cheekbones, who was a little less chatty than Harry had been but still perfectly friendly and quick to serve Nick. 

When Nick got up from his seat at the end of the night, making the executive decision to get himself back home, he had the oddest sensation in his backside, like a very strange sort of pins and needles. He laughed at himself on the way out of the club; he'd been to a strip club and gone away with pins and needles from sitting in one place for too long. He didn't think that was the regular experience one could expect from a night spent at that kind of place, but oh well.

Nick never did like to stick to the norm.

~~~

The music from the club was muffled in the staff room, pounding dully against the wall. Harry and Liam were the only two people sat in the room, at opposite ends of the comfortable sofa, facing each other. Harry took a long sip from his tea, the steam curling up around his face, as Liam eyed him nervously.

"Are you sure you're okay? I didn't hurt you too much?" Liam questioned, for about the fifth time since they had finished the scene.

Harry sighed, considering. "I'm totally fine. I'm, like, sleepy? But you said that was probably going to happen, right?" Liam nodded in confirmation. "Yeah, so I'm not worried about that. It barely even hurts now, honestly." Harry shifted on his seat and, true to his word, felt only the slightest twinge of pain in his backside.

Liam's eyes dipped down to follow the movement and then flew straight back to Harry's face.

"And you weren't uncomfortable in any way?" He asked, worrying at his lip with his teeth as he searched Harry's face for an answer.

Harry just about refrained from rolling his eyes; Liam had also asked this question numerous times. Harry was genuinely touched by Liam's obvious concern, though. The main negative feeling he was getting at that moment was the self doubt in his head that he should _not_ have done that. Despite the fact that he did genuinely enjoy it when it was happening, now that he was just sat in the staff room contemplating everything, it felt as though it had invalidated him as a person somehow. So having Liam's undying support was really helping him in that respect.

And, it was true. Harry had been very nervous when he'd first walked into the private room they were set to perform in. He'd been in the private rooms before, of course, but never with the knowledge that  _ he  _ was going to be the performing act that night. When he had seen the intimidating-looking cross structure, he had gone a little weak in the knees, thinking  _ what the hell  _ was he doing? It had only been Liam and Harry, and another worker called Jack in the room to begin with, and they'd calmly talked through what was going to happen. Liam had decided that having another worker take part in the scene with Harry would help to make Harry feel a little more comfortable, which had definitely worked.

Harry had stated from the beginning that he wouldn't even consider the option of any sexual acts, which had been absolutely fine with the other two anyway, and Harry had slowly been put more and more at ease as time went on.

When the customers had started filing in and taking their seats, Harry had tensed up a little with the realisation of what was really happening, but Liam had been by his side to make him feel completely comforted again before he was able to work himself up into a full blown panic. Liam had basically told Harry to imagine that the other people in the room weren't there, and to focus on what he was  _ feeling,  _ not what he was  _ doing,  _ which seemed like simple advice, but actually really helped when it came to it. Liam had also made it very clear that if Harry started feeling at all uncomfortable or unsure and wanted to stop for any reason, he could just tell Liam that, and they would stop immediately, no exceptions.

Liam had to leave Harry's side, then, but Jack was still there to talk quietly to him and keep him calm. Liam had spoken to the audience, explaining what was going to happen in the scene and going over the rules on no photography, no touching, the usual spiel. Listening to Liam talking made Harry feel a lot more settled again.

Then they had begun the actual scene.

With the very first hit, Harry had thought he would not be able to go through with it. It had just been painful, that was it, and he couldn't see how there would be anything beneficial coming from that. But he had stuck it out, just so he would be able to say that he'd done it, and as time went on, he'd forced himself to relax into it a little and just let his mind wander. And from then on, the scene had absolutely flown by.

He had been aware of Liam speaking to him in hushed tones, and of himself nodding or shaking his head in response, but a lot of it was a very pleasant blur. It had been so relaxing to be able to just stop thinking about any stresses, and not to have to worry whether he was doing something right or not. It was his job to take, and feel. So that's what he had done, letting himself  _ feel  _ everything, like Liam had instructed.

It had been a massive relaxant for Harry, and his mind was completely settled by the end of it. He knew that he would absolutely be doing that again.

"It was definitely a little strange," Harry admitted softly, stroking his thumb over his mug. "But I mean that in the emotional way, not physically? I think knowing that all, or most - I guess I shouldn't assume. Just… knowing that those people in there were possibly getting turned on by watching me, that wasn't… great. But then that's kind of the same with dancing, isn't it? So I just tried not to think about that, really. It genuinely was really good. Like, my head went all fuzzy, like you said? It was like I could just stop thinking for a while, because I only had to focus on what was going on. Yeah. I'd really like to do that again," Harry finished with a decisive nod. "Thank you."

Liam huffed out a breath. "You don't have to thank me, babe. I should be thanking you. I'm honestly so proud of you, Harry. You know that, right? I know that was a huge deal for you, and I'm so happy for you that you've done it. Whether you chose to do it again or not, it wouldn't take away from the fact that you did it!"

Harry smiled into his mug, shyly. Liam's praise was making his cheeks heat up, and he was trying to pretend it was the heat from his drink that was doing it. A glance up at Liam's face told him he wasn't pulling it off convincingly though, and he shook his head bashfully.

"You're too kind to me," Harry muttered and Liam laughed.

"After what I just did to you, you say I'm kind," Liam scoffed.

Harry frowned. "Hey, don't be like that. What you just did for me was amazing. Were you not listening?" Harry complained.

"I know, I know. Sorry, babe," Liam leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead. "I'm as kind as you deserve, lovely. You're great, you know that?"

Harry shrugged.

"No," Liam said firmly. "You're great. I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you," Harry murmured and met Liam's eyes, which were full of nothing but admiration directed right at Harry.

"You're welcome," Liam replied sincerely. "Now, are you going to be alright on your own? I should get back out there, but I can get someone else to come in and sit with you, if you want."

"Yeah, it's fine. I'm probably going to go down to the diner for a little bit," Harry answered, finishing his drink, feeling the heat sliding down his throat and warming his entire body. He was finally coming back to himself fully, felt much less floaty than he had done before and he felt ready to make a move.

"Oh, okay, great. Text me when you get there? And when you're ready to go?" Liam checked, and when Harry nodded, he grinned. "Alright, babe. I'll see you later, then. Go careful, yeah?"

"I will," Harry said, and watched as Liam got to his feet and began walking away from Harry. "Liam," he called before Liam could pull open the door and Liam quickly spun on his heel to turn back to face him. "Thank you."

"Any time," Liam sighed, his worried expression fading into a soft smile. "I love you, Haz."

"Love you," Harry smiled.

With that, Liam pulled the door open, the sounds from the club pouring into the quiet staff room suddenly and sobering Harry up entirely, before it dimmed out again just as quickly, as the door clicked shut behind Liam.

Harry stretched his body out luxuriously on the sofa, groaning at the pull in his muscles and then rose to his feet. He quickly washed up his used mug before grabbing his bag and jacket, and he headed out into the cold night.

It was as though he was on autopilot as his feet directed him to the place he had grown so used to.

~~~

Louis was not having a good day. Nothing was going right for him at all, no matter how hard he tried to put a positive spin on things. 

He had been woken up that morning by the sound of Eleanor sobbing, which already wasn't the greatest start to the day. Obviously he didn't want to see his closest friend in pain or upset in anyway, so he had quickly jumped out of bed - temporarily forgetting the fact that he was not a morning person at all - and rushed through the flat to find her.

His frame of mind was not improved by Eleanor's assurance that she was (somehow) crying happy tears.

Eleanor had woken up to a sharp pain around her wrist that went on and on, like lots and lots of tiny cat scratches. She had obviously panicked to begin with, wondering what the hell was happening to her, but then something had clicked into place in her head and she'd realised that this could be _it._ This could be her soulmate. She'd done a lot of research online since and come to the conclusion that her soulmate was possibly getting a tattoo at that exact moment. This was something that Louis could confirm if he'd wanted to, but he chose to keep his mouth shut, pushing that thought away before it could even fully form.

A combination of Louis' complete disregard to the whole concept of soulmates, and the fact that he'd been denied the sleep he craved meant that he didn't really have much to offer up in terms of support or advice. Eleanor didn't seem to want Louis' help anyway, seemingly content with sobbing into Louis' arms and gushing about how incredibly  _ happy  _ she was.

Louis just did not get it, but of course he was somewhat happy for Eleanor. It was clear she had wanted this, and now she had it.

Louis had attempted to go back to sleep after Eleanor had finally released her hold on him, but even cocooned in his nice warm duvet, it refused to come to him. The inner turmoil bubbling inside Louis' head had made it completely impossible for him to drift off to sleep. His brain rotated around a constant cycle of thoughts. Eleanor was going to get hurt because of this.  _ Louis  _ was going to get hurt because of this. What would happen to Louis if Eleanor met her soulmate and they moved out and lived happily ever after? There was no way Louis could cope with paying all of the bills by himself. He would have to get another job. Then he could kiss goodbye to his visits home. Of course, his thoughts also turned to his own bloody soulmate, however quickly he managed to force those thoughts back out again. Louis had a tattoo of his own, so he knew what getting a tattoo felt like firsthand, but his soulmate had also gotten a few tattoos in their time, and Louis knew exactly how it felt to be getting a ghost-tattoo as well.

Eventually, Louis had resigned himself to the fact that he was just not going to get the lie-in he so desperately wanted that day, and hauled himself out of bed. He'd then had to listen to Eleanor talking more about her soulmate as he quickly ate his breakfast, offering up the odd shrug or non-committal reply where needed. When the constant reminder of soulmates got too much for Louis, he politely excused himself and went for a long walk around the neighbourhood, which actually still wasn't that pleasant; not much to be expected of London, really. It was nothing like taking a long walk in the countryside back home.

That depressing realisation only led to Louis thinking about his little sisters, and his mum back in Doncaster. He wondered what they were up to. It was his oldest little sister's birthday in a few days, and he wanted so badly to be able to go back up North and surprise her. But he knew logistically it wouldn't work. He'd have to talk to his mum about FaceTiming them, or something. That would have to do.

The thought of Louis' family stuck with Louis for the next few hours while he wandered around in the flat, getting things ready for work and making himself something to eat, and that's how he had found himself in a moment of weakness, calling his mum as he got off the bus and walked the rest of his way to the diner that evening.

"Oh, love," Louis' mum tsked sympathetically in his ear. He blew out a steady stream of cigarette smoke as he shifted his phone, cradling it more securely between his neck and shoulder. He had been trying to give up smoking, and had actually been doing a very good job at it, but it was still something that comforted him when he was feeling stressed or anxious about something, and he was pretty sure that day qualified as a stressful event. "You know you'll always be more than welcome back home whenever you want to be here."

Louis smiled a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He hadn't told her the details of his day, just that he was craving a bit of a break from his London life.

"Thanks, mum. I just needed to hear that again, I guess. And… thank you for not saying I told you so."

"Hey, if I'd wanted to say I told you so, I would have done it a long time ago, Lou. I've told you before, I don't blame you one bit for wanting to follow your dreams. Really, what kind of a mother would I be if I had forbidden you from trying? Sometimes things just don't work out, but no one's at fault," his mum said, her voice soothing.

Louis felt another extreme pang of homesickness. Even as he made his way through the busy streets of London, he felt as though his mum was right there beside him. He couldn't help but wish that he was hearing that same voice in different circumstances; preferably cuddled up to his mum, sharing a cup of tea, all cosy in his dressing gown, maybe with one of his little sisters perched on his lap. Instead, he was rushing off to work in the cold London night, miles and miles separating him from his home comforts.

"I know, and I really have been trying to make everything work down here. It just gets a little difficult sometimes, really," Louis paused, considering his next words. "And I miss you and the little ones, a lot, actually."

"Aww, Lou," his mum cooed, as the All Ours sign came into sight. "You know you can come back and visit us anytime you like, or maybe it's about time we came down to see you. We all miss you very much too, love."

"Yeah, yeah, alright, let's not get soppy," Louis said brusquely, trying to stave off any emotion. "I'd love that, Mum, yeah. We'll have to plan something. I'm actually just getting to work now, so I'm going to have to go in a minute."

He paused outside the diner and leaned back against the wall to finish his conversation, flicking his cigarette butt to the ground and pressing his heel on it, already feeling a little disgusted with himself. He'd have to remember to fish out some mints before he started his shift.

"Alright, lovely one. Well, you know where I am anytime you need me. Oh, maybe we can all FaceTime soon, or something like that? That would be nice!"

"That would be great," Louis agreed, smiling at the memory of the last time his mum had attempted to video call him with all of his little siblings at the same time. It hadn't gone brilliantly, but Louis' heart had been sufficiently full for weeks afterwards. "I'll talk to you soon, Mum. I love you."

"I love you too, Louis. You take care of yourself."

"I will, you too. Bye."

"Bye, love."

The line disconnected and Louis breathed out a long slow breath, dragging his thoughts away from his warm cosy living room back in Doncaster and re-introducing himself to the reality of his cold London surroundings. He slowly slid his phone into his pocket, resisting the urge to look through his old photos.  _ That way only sadness lies. _

He had just pushed himself away from the wall and was about to walk into the diner to begin his shift when a shout caught his attention.

"Hey! Hey, Louis!"

He looked towards the direction of the voice, and his eyes widened when he saw the long haired boy approaching him at a fast walk. Louis thought quickly and, with a smirk forming on his face, turned his back to the boy and continued to walk towards the entrance.

"Hey," the voice said, closer this time, and Louis could actually  _ hear  _ the boy pouting. He bit his lip to stop himself from laughing. "Louis."

Louis turned back to face him, looking the boy up and down slowly. He took the time to actually examine his outfit; he had on a very silky looking shirt and a pair of ridiculously tight black jeans, and on his feet he was wearing a pair of shiny gold boots, the vibrant colour clear in the light coming from the diner.

Louis smiled before he could stop himself, and then bit his lip to contain it. "Hello," he finally said slowly.

"I called your name!" the boy said, still sounding sulky. "Didn't you hear me?"

Louis waited a beat, the silence dragging on to the point of awkwardness. "Sorry, do I know you?" Louis enquired slowly, as straight faced as he could manage.

When the boy's face fell, Louis almost felt guilty. He didn't want to see that face sad! Louis was about to stop the charade and apologise, but before he could do so, the boy recovered quickly, smiling sunnily at Louis.

"Yeah, I'm Harry. I come in here quite a lot. You make really good coffee, like,  _ really  _ good coffee. Which I'm actually in desperate need of right now."

The boy -  _ Harry _ \- ran a hand through his hair, and Louis' eyes snapped to the familiar movement as he caught a flash of colour on Harry's nails. Louis smiled softly, pushing the door open and holding it for Harry to pass through.

"Are you on your way to work?" Louis asked, deciding to give up on the charade. Louis didn't usually work this late, was covering for a co-worker, and hadn't actually been expecting to see Harry at all that night.

He let the door swing shut behind the two of them and caught sight of Niall at the bar. Louis lifted a hand in greeting which Niall cheerily returned.

"No, I'm just on a quick break," Harry replied as he made his way over to an empty table, pulling the chair out and flopping heavily down onto it with a loud sigh. "And I am going to need the strongest coffee you've got, please. It's been a busy night, and I still have quite the shift ahead of me."

"I suppose it's kind of a given that Fridays would be extra busy," Louis commented sympathetically. He could definitely relate. "Friday nights, and Saturday nights a ctually, are definitely the most hectic for us here, too!"

Harry bit his lip, and nodded shiftily, glancing away from Louis and looking a little shy for a moment. Louis frowned, wondering what had just happened, but was distracted by the sight of Harry's nails again. He felt all warm inside looking at them. His own nails were painted a light baby pink that night - although a slightly chipped baby pink, he wasn't the best at upkeep - and Louis couldn't help but admire the contrast to the dark colour decorating Harry's nails.

"I'll go and get that coffee started for you," Louis said abruptly, when he realised he'd been staring a little too long. "Are you in much of a rush or are you able to wait?"

"I've got about twenty minutes," Harry replied, with a quick glance down at his phone. "Thank you, Louis!"

"No problem," Louis assured, already walking quickly over to the bar, slipping his thin denim jacket off as he went.

He walked through the staff door, grabbing a mint from the counter on the way. Once in the staff room, he dumped his bag and jacket on a chair, sucking the mint into his mouth and willing the bitter cigarette taste and smell to fade away. He hoped it hadn't been too obnoxious or obvious to Harry.

Louis paused on his way back out into the diner to take a quick look in the mirror hanging by the door. He had been intending to just fix his hair, but the expression he saw on his face made him pause for a moment, lean in a little closer.

Louis had been on the verge of tears when he'd gotten off the phone with his mum, and for most of the day, really. He had been dreading another long night working in London, dreading returning to the flat and having to listen to Eleanor all night, but now he just looked… 

Well, he looked genuinely happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that you can watch the trailer for this fic here if you want to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GcDf6r9fn3M (but be aware of minor spoilers if that would bother you!)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** Warnings for this chapter: mentions of a strip club, also warnings for a pushy customer inside the club (very brief scene). Descriptions of a burn (nothing graphic) ***

_ Are you nearly here grimmers? _

_ Hurry up you're missing everything! _

Nick rolled his eyes as his phone buzzed with yet another message from his inebriated group of friends who were all waiting for him at Stripster. Because Nick had dared to go home and visit his mum for the week to celebrate her birthday, he hadn't actually had the chance to go back to the club himself, so his friends had absolutely insisted that he come down and join them that evening, they would not take no for an answer.

He had travelled back to London only earlier that day, so the fact that he was even considering going out was a feat in itself when all he really wanted was to fall into his bed for the night. Strangely, Nick had found himself genuinely wanting to see the place again though, so he didn't put up too much of a fight.

_ Nick get your ass down here now! _

He was currently sat in a taxi on his way to the club but his friends didn't seem to understand that he didn't really have all that much control over how quickly he was travelling. Nick had told them this multiple times since he left his flat but they hadn't listened, so he had given up on trying to explain and just let them blow up his phone with messages instead. He figured it would be a nice surprise for him when he eventually walked through the door.

The taxi driver dropped him off in the same place as the first time he had visited the club so he knew exactly where he was going, and he walked there quickly, not wanting to annoy his friends any more than he apparently already had done.

When Nick entered Stripster that night, it was to the blaring soundtrack of a fabulous remix of Major Lazer's Light It Up, accompanied by a chorus of cheers and shouts.

His eyes immediately fell on the centre of all the attention; it was kind of hard not to notice the dancer on the stage, even without the aid of the bright golden spotlight travelling up and down the guy's body. He had his back to the crowd but as Nick watched he turned around, and Nick smiled as he realised that it was the same lad who had served him at the bar the first time.  _ Harry. _ His hair was loose now and so much longer than Nick had been expecting, swinging and bouncing around his face as he moved to the music.

Nick flashed back to the memory of Harry's reserved dancing behind the bar that night, a stark contrast to the moves he was currently pulling on the stage at that moment. He looked incredible up there, and everyone else seemed to agree. He had the whole club in the palm of his hand, and the calm, self-assured smile on his face made it clear that he knew exactly what he was doing.

It took him a while but Nick eventually caught sight of his friends gathered together in a booth not far away from the stage. Despite their constant texts, they hadn’t even noticed Nick walk in, all of their gazes were fixed on Harry's dancing as well. Nick quickly made his way through the crowd to join them, anyway.

They exchanged brief slightly distracted greetings, and Nick grabbed a shot from a large tray in the middle of the table as he sunk into a spare space around the booth. Everyone quickly turned their attention back to Harry again, which was a little offensive seeing as Nick hadn't seen his friends all week. But then again, Nick couldn't exactly blame them for wanting to watch the performance.

The current song was fading out and Harry's movements were slowing along with it until it stopped completely. Harry stood with one hand on his hip, and hip cocked, chest rising and falling rapidly as he caught his breath. Nick waited for another song to start, along with everyone else in the club, but the silence only seemed to drag on and on. Harry appeared to have noticed something was up as well as he shifted minutely, glancing uncertainly off stage. The crowd began murmuring, losing interest, and Harry straightened up, signalling to someone Nick couldn't see.

Harry laughed suddenly and motioned off stage, a thumbs up. There was a squeal of mic feedback which made Nick jump and then a voice started singing off stage, a slightly high-pitched version of I Will Survive.

The crowd started to pay attention again in dribs and drabs, turning to face the stage. Harry strutted along the stage, miming the words along with whoever was singing. A few people in the club started singing along, Henry included meaning Nick got an earful of his out-of-tune singing. But that was forgotten a few moments later when Harry suddenly jumped off the stage and out of view and a second later a gorgeously husky voice joined the high pitched one.

A moment later, Harry stepped back up onto the stage to a chorus of cheers as he belted out the chorus with one hand gripping a microphone, the other outstretched dramatically. Nick was genuinely shocked at how amazing Harry's voice was, and the crowd went wild, screaming the lyrics along with Harry who seemed to be having the time of his life up there. Harry held out the microphone for the crowd to sing, which they complied with eagerly. Nick even found himself singing along, and if he thought Henry had a bad singing voice, well, Nick's was something else so this was definitely a rarity. 

At the end of the chorus, a music system suddenly kicked in blasting out the last few notes of the song for the entire club to scream the last  _ I will survive,  _ Harry conducting the crowd and laughing, before bowing dramatically and handing the microphone over to someone off stage.

After the hysteria of the impromptu singalong had died down a little, Harry resumed his earlier position with his hand on his hip and hip cocked out and a few seconds later, a new track started playing. Harry began dancing again, as though nothing untoward had even happened.

The song had transitioned into a remix of Galantis' Runaway, and Harry was now miming along to the words as he continued to move around the small stage, although Nick could still imagine Harry's husky voice actually singing the words. Harry was fully dressed - aside from the fact that his black shirt was so sheer that his entire torso was on display already, and his tight jeans left very little to the imagination - but he was absolutely captivating. He looked like an actual pop star, like he was absolutely born to be on a stage. That, or a model, working the catwalk.

The chorus broke down into a very high tempo version of the original song and Harry's body kept perfect time, hips swinging, arms above his head, occasionally snagging the bottom of his shirt and lifting it up the tiniest amount. He was amazing up there.

Harry continued to hold the attention of every single person in the club, it seemed, until the song eventually finished, Harry's movements gradually slowing again as the track came to an end. He grinned, then, a beaming smile as the crowd watching erupted into cheers for him. Another guy came up onto the stage beside him, and Harry - well, he sort of curtsied, delicately holding the bottom of his shirt and dipping down neatly. The new guy smiled, swatted at him, and they both laughed as Harry vacated the stage.

"That was Harry, there! What a great performer!" The guy on stage grinned, and Harry saluted extravagantly with a matching grin as he walked down the steps to the main floor, a flock of guys immediately approaching him.

The rest of the new worker's words were drowned out by Henry leaning in close to Nick's side and speaking directly into his ear.

"Well, he's definitely something, isn't he?" Henry commented, bobbing his head in the direction Harry had gone, currently out of sight.

Nick could only nod his head in response. "He really is," he agreed, reaching for another shot and quickly downing it.

"Hey!" Henry reprimanded. "You get your own!"

"I will when we've run out," Nick shot back, already grabbing another and drinking it before Henry could stop him.

The opportunity for Nick to follow through on his offer came up about half an hour and two different stage performances later; neither of them as captivating as Harry, not that Nick was at all biased. All of the shots had finally disappeared, and the other drinks on the table were also running low.

"Niiick -" Henry whined, prodding Nick in the side. "You know what you've got to do!"

Nick rolled his eyes, batting Henry's hand away, but gamely got to his feet after checking what everyone was drinking and headed up to the bar.

He turned a few minutes later - quick service, again, despite how busy the club was - with the full tray of drinks in his hands, and narrowly avoided colliding with none other than Harry, who was leaning up against the bar facing out into the main area with the other worker from the stage beside him.  _ Liam,  _ his name badge read.

"Oh, hey, it's you!" Harry said brightly and Nick's eyes flicked up to his face.

"Hiya!" Nick replied. "Such a great performance earlier!"

Harry smiled and ducked his head, dimples popping into his cheeks and making Nick's heart go all wobbly. Bloody dimples. They had been much more manageable when Nick had been entirely sober. With god knows how many shots inside him, however, it was like they were out to get Nick personally, or something equally as dramatic.

"Thank you very much! Glad you liked it," Harry grinned, running a hand through his long hair as he lifted his head.

God, Harry really did have a very intense stare, didn’t he?  _ Had it been that intense last time? _ Nick shifted, moving the tray in his hands to a more comfortable position and Harry's eyes dropped down to the movement.

"I'll let you get on and enjoy your night, love," Harry said, meeting Nick's eyes again. "I should probably get back to work anyway. You have a good one, yeah?"

"Yeah, you too. Thank you!" Nick replied - where the hell had all of his natural charm ran away to when he needed it? - and Harry gave Nick a quick smile before pushing away from the bar, and working his way back into the crowd of people with Liam following closely at his side.

Nick deposited the drinks at their table and dropped back into his seat, his cheeks feeling a little flushed. He blamed the heat of the club, the amount of bodies packed into the kind of small space. That was all it was. That, and the alcohol. Obviously.

"I think I'm going to go and ask him for a one on one dance," Henry said, close to Nick's ear. He really had no concept of personal space.

"Who?" Nick asked, not really paying attention as he reached for one of the drinks on the table.

"That dancer from earlier. Long haired one. He's just over there," Henry motioned, and Nick followed the movement to see that Harry was indeed just a short distance away from their booth, alone now and moving his hips slightly to the music. The first few buttons of his shirt had been undone since he'd left the bar, although Nick didn't understand why, seeing as his shirt was already totally see through anyway.

Pixie chimed into the conversation before Nick could say anything. "You absolutely should! I've always liked Hairy."

Pixie cackled loudly at her joke and Harry's eyes flicked over to their booth. Nick and Harry made eye contact momentarily, exchanged a small smile, before Harry looked away again, all the while still moving to the music. He was  _ good. _

"Yeah, it's worth a try, isn't it?" Henry said, already starting to get to his feet. "Wish me luck," he said over his shoulder, and Pixie flashed him a thumbs up.

Nick watched as covertly as he could as Henry approached Harry and started talking to him.

~~~

It wasn't the first time Harry had been asked to perform any extras for customers, and he was certain that it wouldn't be the last time either, but he still felt so irrationally guilty about turning people down. He knew that he was well within his rights to do so, but he just wanted people to have a good time and be happy. It never got any easier turning someone away.

"I'm sorry, love. I don't really tend to do any extras," Harry said apologetically. "And, I'm actually just about to go off on my break anyway, so I wouldn't be able to give you the full twenty minutes."

This was technically the truth. Harry's break was scheduled to start in fifteen minutes, and although break times were very flexible in Harry's job, the man stood in front of him didn't need to know that. Harry looked around the club, trying to spot any other workers nearby.

"Although, Liam over there would probably be able to perform for you. Oh, and we have a new guy here as well, which is Jamie. He started working here only about a week ago, and I'm sure he'd be more than happy to give you a private dance!" Harry said, pointing out the relevant people as he spoke.

"I really wanted it to be you, to be honest," the man said, moving uncomfortably closer to Harry.

Harry just about refrained from taking a very unsubtle step backwards. He tried for an easy smile.

"That's very flattering, thank you, but as I said I don't really accept any extras. My colleagues will be glad to help you, though," Harry said. He kept his smile fixed in place as he lowered his head graciously, trying to get himself away from the conversation.

"I'd tip very generously," the man pushed. "I'd make it worth your time."

With no warning, the man reached out for Harry, hand brushing the bare skin of his chest and Harry dodged backwards. He cringed, hoping desperately that he'd managed to keep his discomfort internal and not let it show on his face.

"No touching. Club policy," Harry bit out, gesturing at one of the many signs posted up around the place stating the club's rules. His heart thundered in his chest but he swallowed down his panic as best he could to continue speaking. "And that's all very kind of you but I'm still not going to accept. You have a good night, yeah?" Harry said, finally side-stepping the man and making a beeline across the floor to Liam.

"Hey, babe," Liam said, pulling Harry in tight to his side in a one-armed hug. "I was just about to come over to you. You looked pretty uncomfortable. Is everything okay? Is he making trouble?"

Harry huffed out an unsteady breath. "No, not really. Just persistent. Didn't want to take no for an answer, you know."

Liam hugged Harry closer to him. "Shit, I'm sorry, Haz. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine. I might duck out and take my break now if that's okay with you?" Harry asked. His heart was still beating uncomfortably hard in his chest, and he could feel that he was shaking. He absolutely hated how vulnerable he felt in that moment.

"Yep, that's no problem. I'll let Ben know for you."

"Oh," Harry suddenly remembered, wincing. "I might have given that guy your name as someone who'd do a private dance for him. I'm sorry."

Liam chuckled softly in Harry’s ear. "It's fine. Don't worry about it. Go on, go take your break."

Harry paused, looking at Liam hesitantly.

"Go! I'll be fine!" Liam urged. "I'll see you later."

Harry bit his lip uncertainly, but nodded before turning and making his way through the crowd of people to the staff room. He quickly pulled his hoodie on and left through the staff door that led into the alleyway round the back of the club.

He walked briskly down the street, dodging around the groups of drunken people gathered together. Harry kept his head down, keeping himself to himself and not wanting to attract any more unwanted attention. He finally pushed the door to the diner open and instantly breathed a sigh of relief.

The diner was playing their usual calming acoustic style of music, a complete contrast to the music his club played all night long. Harry felt immediately comforted, welcomed in. He could smell the coffee brewing, could hear light conversations going on around the relatively empty seating area, a quiet bubbling of noise. Harry almost felt as though his ears were ringing from the sudden extreme volume change. It was like a completely different night, a completely different world, even.

Harry spotted a small table that was empty and slid into the seat there. He leaned back in the chair for a moment, head tipped back and eyes closed, simply revelling in the near silence, breathing slowly and calmly.

"Hey," a soft voice said, and Harry's eyes snapped open. He struggled to quickly sit upright again.

There was a waiter stood right next to Harry's table; god knows how long he'd been there. He looked vaguely familiar and Harry frowned for a moment, trying to place him, but then shook his head realising how strange he must look.

"Sorry, sorry. I - I'm not very with it tonight. Hi!" Harry said, trying to settle his thoughts.

To his surprise, the boy in front of him started laughing as Harry stared back at him, bemused.

"Is everything alright?" Harry questioned carefully, a little unsure of how to proceed.

"Everything's fine, Harry. Just fine," the boy laughed.

A quick glance down confirmed that Harry's name badge from work was covered up by his hoodie, and Harry startled at the knowledge that this boy knew his name.

Harry winced apologetically. "Sorry, mate, we've clearly met before but I'm not sure - "

"You're never sure!" The boy interrupted. He didn't seem offended, though, so Harry relaxed a little, offering up a tentative smile. "I'm Louis. Still Louis," he said, and it was like a light bulb instantly flicked on in Harry's brain, the cloud of confusion clearing. "It's just clicked now, yeah? Okay, there we go, you've got it now!" Louis giggled, clearly seeing the realisation dawn.

"Sorry, oh my  _ god,  _ you must think I'm so rude!" Harry said, exasperated. "God, you're not even forgettable, like, at all. I'm so sorry!"

It wasn't even a lie. Harry looked forward to the peace and quiet of the diner, and while that was the main reason he chose to go in there of a night time, it wasn't the only one. He also always found himself leaving that diner with a big smile on his face, he found himself thinking of Louis as he walked back to work from his breaks or as he travelled back to his flat through London at the end of a shift. He wondered what sort of life Louis led, what his days looked like if his nights showed him working in a twenty-four hour diner. Harry loved to people watch in general, loved to make up little scenarios in his head for what the people all around him got up to in their day to day lives, especially in the club. He wondered what the people who paid money to watch other people dance and strip and more did for work, how they earned that money themselves. He wondered whether they had families, children, wives, husbands. He loved to speculate over what had brought them there in the first place, where they would go off to afterwards. But lately, more and more often, his mind had continued to drift back to diner Louis. He felt so guilty for not realising it was him straight away. He had no excuse for it, absolutely none.

"It's honestly fine, it's kind of fun!” Louis laughed, interrupting Harry's inner worries. Harry's furrowed brow smoothed out as he smiled at the sound. "Don't worry about it. Maybe one day it will stick."

"I'm sure it will," Harry agreed, nodding. "Sorry, again. And - uh - I'm really sorry to kind of rush but could I order something from you? I'm only on a break so I don't have too long."

"No, that's fine. It's what I'm here for! What would you like?" Louis asked, so Harry ordered a black coffee and a small Caesar salad, which Louis quickly went off to get for him.

He brought the coffee back a few short seconds later, and told Harry that the salad was just being prepared. Harry took the coffee from him gratefully, taking a long sip and humming happily.

"Oh, I needed this!" Harry exclaimed. "Thank you so much!"

"No problem," Louis said, a smile on his lips. "I'll just go and check on how your food's coming along."

"Thank you," Harry replied, already bringing his coffee cup back up to his lips.

The caffeine was very much needed. Harry was due to work another two hours when he got back to the club and he was already feeling a little drained, for some reason. To make things even worse, there seemed to be a headache slowly forming at his temples.

He placed the mug down on the table near him and leaned back in his chair again, pinching the bridge of his nose and running his fingers along his forehead, tilting his head back.

As he sat upright again, he noticed that Louis was approaching his table with his salad, and Harry sighed, stretching luxuriously in his seat.

And that turned out to be a big mistake.

Because as Harry brought his arm down again from the stretch, he somehow managed to swipe the mug and sent it wobbling dangerously on the table. He instinctively reached out to stop it before realising that would be a silly thing to do as the contents would obviously burn his skin, so he withdrew his hand just as quickly, causing the mug to fall off over the edge of the table.

Harry yelped out as he felt the hot liquid begin to seep through the material of his skinny jeans, and he leaped up from his chair to try and minimize the damage as he felt his skin already beginning to itch with a burn.

Harry distantly heard a crashing sound and registered that the mug must have finished its trajectory and had fallen to the ground. He quickly looked up at Louis to apologise for the damage, but froze when he realised that Louis was bent almost double, with a hand pressed to his own thigh. The plate of salad was on the floor at Louis' feet, broken china and various greens all over the place but Louis was stood still, already staring up at Harry with wide and panicked eyes.

Harry looked back at Louis, breathing heavily, trying to think logically and make sense of what had just happened through the haze of pain.

"Are - are you okay?" Harry asked cautiously, absentmindedly patting at the wet patch in his own lap with a napkin from the table.

Louis shook his head wildly, looking as though he was ready to bolt at any moment. His hand tightened visibly on his leg and he let out a little noise of pain through pursed lips.

"You, uh… I think you must have splashed some on me. God, I'm so sorry." Louis spoke through gritted teeth, beginning to back away from Harry's table even as he was talking. "I'll - I'll just go and get something to clean all of this up. And replace your food. Sorry."

Before Harry could say another word, Louis hurried away, disappearing quickly through a staff only door tucked away behind the bar.

Harry continued to dab gingerly at his jeans, wondering idly if the skin underneath was going to be marked too horrifically. He didn't think so; his drink hadn't been too hot to start with, and he had jumped up pretty quickly. He praised himself for his quick reflexes there, before realising it had been his not so great reflexes that had caused this to happen in the first place. A glance at the floor beside him showed Harry that a great deal of the drink had landed there instead of on him, though.

He prodded at his thigh with curious fingers, letting out a small grunt at the pain. He decided he'd better go and actually check on the state of his skin, knowing that he probably wouldn't be able to go back to work if the skin was too obviously damaged. He took himself off to the bathroom and gingerly peeled his jeans down, realising that any overly rough touch would possibly make matters worse.

Once the burn was revealed, Harry winced as he pressed carefully at the bare skin. It didn't look too bad at all, but a small area about halfway down his thigh was definitely a lot more raised and angry-looking than was normal. He walked over to the sink and gathered some cold water in his palm, hissing through his teeth as he dabbed it gently onto the injured patch of skin. He wished he had some sort of lotion with him, but he'd left his bag back in the staff room at the club.

He would have to ask Ben when he got back to work if he was good to go or not. Maybe he could get his rota shifted around a little bit so he could just be working as a barman for the rest of the night. He really hated the thought that he might be letting people down, or forcing someone to take over his duties at the club.

When the pain had eased a little bit, Harry pulled his jeans back up, and took a look at his reflection in the small mirror above the sink. His hair was really annoying him that night, falling flat and flopping into his face; dancing always made that happen but he preferred to dance with his hair loose than tied up, so he couldn't win. He attempted to fluff it up in the mirror, but it was pretty much a lost cause, so he finally vacated the bathroom.

As he approached his table, he saw that a fresh plate of food had been brought out and left for him. His stomach rumbled in anticipation, suddenly realising just how hungry he actually was.

He sat down, noticing that the spilt coffee and broken china had also been cleared up in his absence.

As Harry pulled the plate towards himself, he noticed a small slip of paper tucked just underneath it. He groaned, expecting it to be a bill for the broken crockery, and reached for it.

However Harry's frown only grew more pronounced as he read over the short note. All that was on the piece of paper were the handwritten words,  _ I'm really sorry. L. _

~~~

Three days had passed since the spilled coffee incident, and it had taken that long but Louis had finally managed to convince himself that everything was going to be okay. Somehow.

He hadn't seen Harry since that night. Although Louis could admit he was missing their regular catch ups and actually missing simply seeing him, there was also a big part of him hoping Harry had figured out that there was a possibility the two of them were soulmates -  Louis' stomach still turned at the word, but he pretended it didn't - and had simply chosen to keep his distance, which is exactly what he would have done himself.

Well, it kind of was actually what Louis had done considering he had literally ran away from Harry that night, and then returned with just a note. He had let out a huge sigh of relief when he'd re-entered the diner and seen that Harry wasn't at the table. He'd quickly scribbled the 'I'm sorry' note while he was fetching the dustpan and brush to clear up the mess, and was glad he'd be able to leave it somewhat anonymously. He knew that Harry would take the note as a simple,  _ I'm sorry for the burn,  _ and that was fine with Louis. He didn't necessarily need Harry to read the whole,  _ I'm sorry for abandoning you but I think you might be my soulmate. You're really great and lovely, but I really don't want a soulmate,  _ subtext the note actually held. If Harry had, somehow, read that meaning in the note and then decided to keep away from Louis, then Louis couldn't quite find it in himself to be annoyed or upset about it. Although, it had dawned on him late one night that if that  _ was  _ the case and Harry didn't want a soulmate either, they might be more compatible than Louis could have hoped for, which only managed to give Louis very mixed and very confused feelings.

Another part of him, though, had come to the conclusion that there hadn't been any soulmate shit going on in the first place. He had somewhat convinced himself that Harry's flailing hand had managed to send at least one little droplet of coffee onto Louis' thigh, and that was that. It was a likely story and Louis was happy to stick to that one, especially when Niall had cornered him that night and asked him what the hell had just happened. As far as Niall knew, Louis had  _ never  _ felt his soulmate's pains, and Louis wanted to keep it that way. He didn't want to get into another deep conversation about that, not with Niall nor, well, ever again, really.

Louis had become a little bit embarrassing at work, though. Every time the bell above the door sounded, his stomach would do a little annoying flip, and he was never able to stop his eyes from darting up to see who the newcomer was. He would never admit to the feeling of disappointment he got each time he did this and saw that it wasn't Harry entering.

He didn't think Niall had noticed what was going on, and Louis could only be thankful for that. He really didn't need Niall hounding him about having another 'crush'. Niall was so into the idea of pairing Louis off with someone; it was all in fun, and Louis wasn't really offended by it - it was kind of hard to be offended by anything Niall did, in general - but it just was not something that Louis was at all interested in. Every few months or so, Niall would find someone that he'd try to convince Louis would be perfect for him, and every single time Louis would politely brush off any and all suggestions Niall would make. But if Niall could see the way Louis was acting over Harry, he knew that Harry would become Niall's next target at the drop of a hat, and Louis didn't think he could bear that. He wasn't entirely sure if Niall even knew about Harry; he had never noticed the two of them talking any time Harry had been in the diner. Although, truthfully, Louis did always make sure it was himself who approached Harry to take his order, so maybe that was Louis' own doing.

The truth was, though, Louis was kind of struggling. He had to endure long sessions of listening to Eleanor chatting away about her soulmate for hours and hours, romanticizing the whole scenario time and time again, and it was wearing Louis down a little. It had got to the point where he was craving leaving the flat and heading off to work, not just because of the chance he would get to see Harry but he wouldn't deny that the possibility played a big part in his eagerness. Louis didn't quite understand it, but there was just something about Harry that was so charming and genuine and kind, and despite not really knowing him - not properly - Louis felt like he could really use a friend like Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that you can watch the trailer for this fic here if you want to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GcDf6r9fn3M (but be aware of minor spoilers if that would bother you!)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** Warnings for this chapter: mention of a manipulative relationship ***
> 
> This chapter is kind of a filler but it's necessary, and it gives a little bit of backstory for one character.

"Harry!" Gemma scolded, her voice slightly tinny over the phone's speaker, and Harry laughed sheepishly as he brought it back up to his face, framing himself centrally in the screen. "It's not funny! How did you manage that?"

Harry shifted on the staff room sofa, sitting cross-legged so he was at a more flattering angle. He took the opportunity to pull his jeans back up over his hips, wincing just barely as the material rubbed against the still-healing burn.

"I dropped coffee down myself on Saturday night," Harry shrugged. "It's not a big deal and, anyway, it's already healing!" he finished a little defensively.

Gemma hummed, still looking at Harry disapprovingly. "Well, make sure you look after it please, Harold. It looks nasty!"

"I am looking after it. Washed it, put lotion on it, everything. I'm very good at that sort of thing! It honestly doesn't even hurt now," Harry assured her, feeling touched by her protective big-sister act, all the same. "Although it hurt like a bitch when I did it," he admitted, remembering how hard it had been not to cause an even bigger scene than he'd already managed by shouting out in the middle of the diner or doing something equally as embarrassing.

Gemma tutted, shaking her head. "You poor thing. I feel sorry for your poor soulmate too, that can't have been very pleasant!"

"I know, I know," Harry giggled. "I'll apologise when we meet. For that, and all of the other injuries I've passed onto them. It'll probably take a while."

"No luck with that?" Gemma questioned softly, and Harry shook his head.

"No luck. I haven't felt any strange pain for ages either, it's always because of something  _ I've _ done! What if I don't even have one, Gem?" Harry's voice went quiet at the end but Gemma still heard loud and clear.

"You  _ do  _ have one, Harold. You know you do! Don't start thinking like that, babe."

Harry sighed. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd felt the excitement of a random pain sparking up on his body. It had been far too long in Harry's eyes; either his soulmate was the least clumsy person alive, or they just simply didn't exist.

"Yeah, I guess," Harry said. "I'm just not very patient. I've wanted this for so long!"

"Believe me, I know you have," Gemma laughed. "It's all I've heard for the past ten years or so? Honestly, no one deserves to meet their soulmate more than you do, babe, and I believe it will happen for you! You've just got to give it time, yeah? It'll happen when you're least expecting it. Like, if you go looking for them, you're only going to make it harder for yourself. This whole thing is based on destiny and fate and all of that, isn't it? So let destiny do its work."

Harry smiled, a genuine smile, as he listened to the oh-so-familiar speech. He had gotten this speech from multiple people in his life, worded in slightly different ways, but it never got old. 

"Thanks, Gem. I know I'm just being silly," Harry sighed.

"I get it, babe, you're all good," Gemma assured him. "Honestly, though, I'd better be the very first person you tell when you do finally meet, by the way, I'm counting on you."

"What about Mum?" Harry laughed, and Gemma hummed thoughtfully.

Before Gemma could give her reply, the staff room door opened and a burst of sudden loud noise poured into the room, making Harry jump and disrupting the little family bubble he'd created. He craned his neck to check who had come in and saw Liam stood there.

"Oops, sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I've just finished, babe. You've got five minutes, alright?" Liam said, looking guilty for cutting in.

"That's fine," Harry answered, already turning back to Gemma. "Thanks, Liam."

"No worries. Don't mind me," Liam whispered, as he moved over to the sink and started making himself a cup of tea.

"Yeah, what about Mum, you heartless woman!" Harry repeated, dimpling at Gemma through the screen.

"Yeah, yeah, fair point. Mum probably  _ would _ kill you, or me, or both of us, if you didn't tell her first. But I'd better be the second!" she threatened, frowning at the camera.

"I promise," Harry said, shaking his head fondly.

He was so blessed to have the supportive family he had. He knew that they were behind him every step of the way. Even if logistically they were actually a good few miles away from him, he knew they would always have his back and would be there for him in an instant if he needed advice or support or help in any way, and he would do the same for them. The Styles family were a very strong unit and Harry wouldn't change them for the world.

Harry just wanted his big moment, craved the time he would be able to go back to his family and say, _ it's happened. I've met my soulmate. Meet so-and-so. _

He knew that his time  _ would _ come. He still had his cross necklace, and everything! It had to happen for him.

"Good lad," Gemma smiled. "I'd best let you get back to work, Curls. I hope I didn't take up too much of your break though. I feel bad!"

"No, don't feel bad! I had nothing else to do, and nothing I'd rather be doing than talking to you anyway!" Harry tried for flattery, batting his lashes dramatically at the camera.

"Oh, sod off!" Gemma giggled. "I'll talk to you soon, babe."

"Alright, give my love to mum and everyone," Harry said. "Bye!"

The call disconnected and Harry sighed, leaning down to slide his phone back into his bag.

"How long have I got now?" he asked Liam lazily, still sprawled on the sofa.

"Like… half a minute?" Liam guessed and Harry huffed, pulling himself up with some effort. "Hey, are you alright, love? Not too tired?"

Harry was working an extra hour every shift that week to make up for the lost time on the night of the burn, and truthfully it was pushing Harry quite hard, but he was coping.

"I'm fine, I've only got another half hour," Harry replied, getting to his feet and stretching.

"I'll wait here to give you a lift back, you're not going on public transport like that," Liam said.

"Alright,  _ mum," _  Harry scoffed. "I've got my hoodie with me; it's not so bad!"

Liam just shook his head in response. "I didn't mean the clothes. Well, I didn't  _ only  _ mean the clothes; you're knackered, babe. Go on. Get back to work if you're sure you're alright to."

"I'm sure," Harry smiled as he walked to the door.

"Oh! Haz, you've dropped something!" Liam called out, and Harry turned to see Liam moving over to the sofa where Harry had been sprawled moments before. He straightened up with a piece of paper in his hand.

"Oh, that's nothing, you can - " Harry started and then his eyes widened slightly as he realised what it was. "I - uh - thanks, Li," he quickly moved across the room to take the note from Liam.

"No worries," Liam replied, sounding a little confused.

"See you in a bit," Harry murmured distractedly.

He looked down at the note in his hand as he pushed the staff door open into the club, tracing his thumb gently over the familiar words.

_ I’m really sorry - L. _

Harry smiled and slipped the note back into his jeans pocket, where it belonged.

~~~

Louis might have thought he needed a friend like Harry in his life before, but he had been young and naive then. Just two days later and he was  _ desperate  _ for a friend like Harry in his life. 

What had started as a small and mostly innocent fascination with finding her soulmate had quickly turned into a full blown mission for Eleanor. It had become all Louis heard about from the moment he woke up in the morning to the moment he left to go to work, and sometimes - if Louis was extra lucky - he'd get home and Eleanor would still be awake, waiting to run something else by Louis.

Which was the case that Thursday evening. Louis didn't even work Thursday evenings as a rule but had been so eager to get out of the house that he had begged Niall to let him take his shift that night. Niall - bless him - hadn't asked any questions, just promised Louis he would return the favour at some point, if Louis needed it. As soon as Louis got through the front door after his shift, Eleanor was on him.

"Louis, guess what? I've found a soulmate specialist right here in London and - "

"Oh my god," Louis breathed out before he could engage his brain to mouth filter, and instantly regretted it as Eleanor frowned at him, offended.

"What are you saying  _ oh my god  _ like that for?" she asked snippily, and Louis felt so guilty for snatching away her rose tinted glasses like that.

"Nothing. Sorry, love, sorry," Louis apologised, rubbing at his brow bone, exasperated. "I'm just tired. Sorry, I didn't mean that."

He steered Eleanor over to the sofa and flopped down onto it, looking up at her expectantly.

"Go on, tell me your news, babe. You've found a... soulmate specialist, was it?" Louis pressed, trying to keep the judgement out of his voice.

Luckily for Louis he seemed to have pulled it off because next thing he knew, Eleanor's eyes were lighting up again as though nothing had happened, and she dropped down onto the sofa next to him, brandishing her phone in his face. It took him a moment for his eyes to focus on the screen, and when he finally saw it clearly he had to muster up all of his acting skills.

"Oh, wow, El!" he commented. "That's amazing. So... What is it these people do?"

"I don't actually know," Eleanor admitted, whipping the phone back to excitedly look over their website. "But they're only a twenty-five minute bus ride away and I really want to give it a go! What's the worst that can happen?"

Louis opened his mouth, but closed it again promptly. He didn't have a positive answer to Eleanor's question, so he decided it would be for the best to keep his reply to himself. Another thing for Louis to internalize, another thing to keep Louis awake that night.

"Will you come with me?" Eleanor asked suddenly, and Louis looked over at her to see that she was already staring at him with wide, pleading eyes. "Please? Tomorrow?"

"Umm…" Louis hedged, trying to think of a polite way to say  _ no, absolutely not, never. " _ Well… I have work, so I -"

"Yeah, but not until the evening," Eleanor interrupted. "We can go during the day! Please, Lou. I don't want to do this on my own."

Louis sighed; he could feel a headache coming on, and he just wanted to go to bed. 

"Yeah, sure, El," he said quietly. "Tomorrow. Great."

Eleanor squealed and flung her arms around Louis' neck, hugging him tight. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! You're the best, Lou! The  _ best _ !"

"I know," Louis huffed, halfheartedly hugging Eleanor back.

He couldn't help feeling like his whole life was about to change. What was he  _ doing? _

The next day saw Louis being dragged to a place he absolutely never thought he would set foot in, for as long as he lived. Louis put these sort of people on par with fortune tellers, and that is technically what they were; making money off of something that clearly meant a lot to some people by reading their palms, and asking them deep questions, and a load of other stuff Louis didn't really understand, or  _ want to  _ understand.

Louis wasn't allowed into the main room with Eleanor and sat quietly in the waiting room instead, surrounded by flyers and 'looking for…' posters and other nonsense, as Eleanor talked to the specialist for what felt like hours and hours. Louis did not know what he was doing there, and he couldn't help judging the surprisingly large amount of people that entered the building in the time Louis was sat there.

Eleanor finally left the room with tear-filled eyes and a piece of paper clutched in her shaking hands. 

"Everything okay, babe?" Louis asked, his annoyance transitioning into concern for his friend. What had that bloody 'specialist' said to her?

But Eleanor nodded jerkily, holding out the piece of paper towards Louis, who frowned and took hold of it. On the paper was a list of five people's names - first name, middle name, and surname - three girls' names and two boys' names, all with the number 18 printed next to them, which Louis assumed was their ages.

Louis realised he was holding a list of possible names of Eleanor's soulmate. He stared down at it in despair, the only thought running through his brain being,  _ what the hell happens next? _

"Isn't it amazing?" Eleanor asked, awestruck - a hypothetical question. "She told me  _ that one -" _  Eleanor pointed at 'Matthew James Burke, 18'. "-Came in a week ago specifically looking for his soulmate, so that means he wants to find me - or them - too. And she said  _ this one -" _  This time Eleanor pointed at 'Megan Leigh Hanley'. "-turned eighteen the day before I felt that pain!"

Louis nodded along and cooed at appropriate times but his mind was entirely elsewhere. Truthfully, there was a part of him that had registered one important detail, and that was that the specialist seemed to only give out names of people who had gone to visit her previously, meaning that Louis' own name wouldn't be given out to anyone in the future. This made Louis feel a little reassured in himself, but he didn't exactly feel settled. His future was unbalanced because of that one little piece of paper, and he had practically dug his own grave by encouraging Eleanor to go through with this.  

God, he  _ really _ hoped a certain friend would turn up at the diner that night. Louis  _ really _ needed to see him.

He was  _not_ okay.

~~~

It was late; way later than Nick had ever been at Stripster in the past, and Nick's energy and patience levels were quickly deteriorating. He had seen Harry very briefly earlier on but he had been extra swamped and they hadn't even managed to have a proper conversation beyond, 'hi, how are you? What would you like to drink?'.

The club had decided to put on some sort of offer because it was someone who worked there's birthday - something like that, anyway, Nick wasn't completely sure - and because of that it had been difficult to leave the damn place at a reasonable time. Nick's friends were determined to take advantage of the lower priced alcohol and dances, and Aimee had even disappeared to watch a scene in the private rooms for a while earlier because it had been the same price for a longer scene than normal, apparently. Nick hadn't been tempted, though. He knew Harry wasn't inside that room so had decided to remain where he was.

He had eventually managed to get some of his friends into a taxi and off home - Nick envied them a little bit - while others had simply wandered off around the club. 

Somehow Nick's fun night out had evolved into him looking after his very drunken friends - well, mainly his very drunken Henry. The same Henry who was currently swinging very enthusiastically, and quite obscenely, on the pole in front of their table. Nick simultaneously tried his very hardest not to look, while making sure Henry didn't hurt himself; which was looking like a more and more likely occurrence. The man couldn't dance on a good day, and this was not a good day for him.

Apparently Nick wasn't alone in thinking this because a few short seconds later, and despite the heaving crowd inside the club, a worker approached their table, and Nick braced himself for whatever was about to happen.

"Excuse me, sir," the man said sharply. "You can't dance on the pole. Please stop playing with the club's equipment."

"Oh, fuck off," Henry laughed, loud and obnoxious. "This is a  _ strip club.  _ What are the poles here for if they're not to dance on?"

"They are here for the workers in the club to perform on for you. If you'd like me to, I can go and get someone to come and - "

"I  _ am  _ a worker," Henry protested. "Look at me go!"

"Sir," the man sighed, looking so tired that Nick felt sorry for him; Nick could really empathise with the poor guy. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave if you're going to cause trouble."

"He's not going to cause any trouble," Nick jumped in hastily. "I'm so sorry, we'll get going."

The man smiled at Nick gratefully and moved away, glancing back over his shoulder at them.

"Hen, come on," Nick said firmly. "I think it's time we get going now."

"We can't leave! Pixie's not here!" Henry protested with all of the logic he could muster in his inebriated state.

"Oh, god. Where  _ is  _ Pixie?" Nick mused, looking around the club. "She can't still be out there smoking, can she?"

Henry gasped suddenly, clasping onto Nick's arm dramatically and making Nick jump. "Maybe she's gone and befriended cigarette guy!" He barely got the sentence out before he burst into laughter, throwing his head back and attracting the attention of various people around the club. Nick sighed and shook Henry's hand off of him.

'Cigarette Guy' was the bloody inconsiderate man who had decided that it was okay to drop hot ash from his cigarette onto Nick's leg the last time they'd been at the club. Nick still hadn't forgiven him; it was going to be a long-held grudge. What kind of person  _ did  _ that?

"Oh come on, you aren't honestly still fuming about that damn cigarette, are you?" Henry asked, a laugh evident in his voice.

"Yes, I'm still fuming!" Nick snapped back instantly. "Just fucking dropping hot ash on me and not even thinking to apologise. What the fuck?"

"You're drunk," Henry laughed openly, and Nick shot him a glare.

"Says you. Did you have a point?"

"Ooh, alright, touchy Tina. Calm yourself down!" Henry flicked a shot across the tabletop towards Nick. "Drink that!"

"You drink it," Nick said, flicking it back. "Then go and wait outside for me. I'm going to go and look for Pixie. Don't get yourself into any more trouble, please."

Nick got to his feet, stumbling only a little bit, and looked around, trying to get his bearings. He decided to go out into the smoking area first, telling himself firmly that there was no way Pixie would have made friends with Cigarette Guy. She had better taste than that - she was friends with  _ Nick,  _ for god's sake. Nick cupped his thigh protectively as he walked outside, just as a precaution. He couldn't trust anybody with their stray cigarette ash now, Cigarette Guy had spoiled that for everyone. The outside smoking area was pretty much deserted though, and neither Pixie nor Cigarette Guy were among the few people gathered there.

Nick was just fishing his phone out of his jeans pocket to call Pixie when he heard people talking a little way away. He followed the trail of the voices and came to a stop at the entrance to an alleyway. He decided to think rationally for a moment and not just head down a dimly lit alleyway by himself on the off chance that his friend was down there, but as he stood there, he heard what was clearly Pixie's voice followed by a male voice.

"Pix-" Nick called out.

"Yeah," a slightly groggy sounding Pixie replied instantly, and Nick quickly walked into the alleyway towards her.

As he approached, he saw that Pixie was hunched over close to the ground, with someone else - the owner of the male voice, presumably - crouched down next to her, rubbing her back.

Nick's heart skipped a beat at the sight, worry for his friend springing up in his gut instantly.

"Are you okay?" Nick asked cautiously as he drew level with the pair. He had absolutely no idea how he'd manage to fight off this guy if he needed to.

"Just peachy," came Pixie's sarcastic reply.

Nick's equally sarcastic response died on his lips when the man rubbing Pixie's back turned to look up at Nick, and Nick saw that it was none other than Harry. His hair was tucked away underneath a beanie, and he was wearing a very large grey hoodie, which was Nick's excuse for not recognising him straight away.

"Um - I can look after her from here," Nick said, unusually lost for words. Why did this always happen to him when he had the chance to speak to Harry? "I'm - I'm sure you're probably busy and whatnot."

Harry shook his head. "Nope, I was just about to head home actually. But thanks." He leaned back down and patted Pixie's back. "You know him, yeah?" Harry checked quietly, voice only just carrying to Nick, and when Pixie nodded in confirmation, he rose to his feet. "She'll be alright. I think she's over the worst of it already," he said to Nick, already moving away towards the other end of the alleyway.

"Uh, okay, great. Thank you for looking after her!" Nick said.

"No problem," Harry turned back to look at Nick. "Bye, Pixie!" he called.

"Bye, Harry! It was nice to meet you!" Pixie slurred back.

"Good night," Harry said, a smile in his voice, before he ducked into a car that was waiting just at the far end of the alleyway. With a quick wave, he was gone, the car pulling away and disappearing into the night.

Nick stared after the car for an embarrassingly long time, and when he finally turned back to look at Pixie, she was already up on her feet and gazing back at him with a horribly smug expression on her face.

"What?!" Nick protested, immediately defensive. "What are you looking at me like that for?"

"You're so embarrassing," Pixie laughed.

" _Me? I'm_ embarrassing? You've just thrown up in a strip club alleyway, love," Nick said, guiding her back out into the smoking area and over towards where he could see Henry waiting, thankfully.

"You  _ like  _ him," Pixie whispered, leaning up on her tiptoes to speak directly into Nick's ear as though it was a secret, and Nick rolled his eyes. "But it's okay that you like him. Do you know why?"

Nick sighed. "Why?" He said noncommittally, deciding to humour her.

She leaned in even closer - Nick struggled to keep them both upright - and whispered into Nick's ear conspiratorially, "Because he's your  _ mate." _

Nick felt his entire body going tense at the implication of her words. He felt discomfort bubbling away in his stomach, and considered nipping back into the alleyway for his own turn to throw up.

"What?" he replied instead, trying and failing to sound casual.

"He's your mate! He was telling me he worked an extra hour today because, guess why?" Pixie said, as though this was all a joke to her, as though this conversation wasn't making Nick want to run a mile.

"Why?" he managed to get out through the thickness in his throat.

"Because he hurt himself," Pixie said, continuing her drunken and very dramatically told story. "He hurt himself by  _ spilling hot coffee… on his leg." _

"Shut up," Nick said quickly, distancing himself from Pixie as they reached Henry. "That's just a coincidence."

"What's a coincidence?" Henry asked, sounding a little bored and not even bothering to look up from his phone.

"That Hairy - " Pixie began, but Nick jumped in.

"Nothing. You're drunk," he stated, distractedly, checking he had all of his things on him. "Right, shall we get a taxi back, then?"

As they were all crammed together in the backseat of the taxi, Nick forced himself to calm down. The drink in his system was making everything seem so amplified, and he was definitely just overreacting. 

It wasn't even that Nick didn't  _ want  _ a soulmate. That wasn't the case, exactly. It was more that Nick felt too scared to pursue anything with  _ anyone,  _ soulmate or no. He feared that he would be too caught up in the possibility of getting hurt, again, to let himself fall for someone new.

Nick had met Mark when he had just turned eighteen years old, and Mark was twenty-one. He had never been in a relationship with another man before, hadn't really been in a serious relationship with anyone besides little flings with a few girls when he was in school. But they had always just been for fun and he'd known at the time that they would never truly amount to anything. He certainly wouldn't have said that he was in love with any of them. But Mark was different.

When Nick first met Mark, he'd almost instantly felt a very strong connection with him, and Nick had never really questioned that. He'd always been very open to the idea of being attracted to men so the fact that he'd been proved correct didn't bother him in the slightest.

Nick and Mark got into a relationship after not knowing each other for very long, but it just felt right at the time, it didn't feel at all rushed. Nick made it clear to Mark, however, that if he were ever to meet his soulmate - however slim the chances were - he would want to get into a relationship with that person. Like, if he was destined to be with someone, he'd want to pursue that; and that wasn't an uncommon viewpoint to have in their society.

It was a huge surprise then - albeit a very good surprise - when Mark revealed a little while later that he had his suspicions that he and Nick were actually soulmates. Mark had sat Nick down and explained to him that he hadn't wanted to say anything earlier and scare Nick off, but now that he'd realised what Nick's views on soulmates were, he felt comfortable telling him. He said that a few months ago - which coincided with when Nick had turned eighteen - Mark suspected he was feeling someone else's pain, and joined Nick in saying that he had felt an instant connection between them when they'd first met.

Somewhere deep down, Nick was not completely convinced that they were soulmates, but he wanted so badly to  _ believe  _ that they were. He'd fallen for Mark early on, and to hear that he had actually been destined from the beginning to be with Mark was exactly what Nick  _ wanted _ to hear. So he chose to believe it. His friends had openly voiced their concerns on the situation, backing up what Nick had thought, and saying he hadn't actually ever felt Mark's pain, had he? But Nick refused to listen to them. Why would Mark lie?

Nick and Mark had kissed before the soulmates admission had even come about, so any pain either of them were feeling was not automatically passed on. That was just how it worked; once you kissed your soulmate, the 'bond' between you was formed, meaning that the pain connection or whatever it was broke. Pain was not shared automatically after you'd kissed your soulmate, although you still had the chance to take your partner's pain away, or to give your pain to your partner. This only made it easier for Nick to believe what Mark was telling him.

Two more months passed, and Nick was blissfully happy with Mark. He thought this was the man he was going to marry, he was absolutely head over heels in love with him. So, of course, it was all too good to be true.

Nick was on a work experience placement from uni, working as a runner at a local television studio. Even at that age, he was already very focused on breaking into the media industry, and he knew full well that becoming a runner was the very best first step he could take. 

He wasn't getting paid but he was still working his absolute hardest on that placement, and it could get quite intense. Nick was having a particularly stressful shift one afternoon, barely even finding time to catch his breath. He would be in the middle of one job and someone would ask him to go and fetch the crew a tray of coffees, or he'd be sweeping up a set, and would get called away to photocopy some file or other.

He just generally hadn't been having a very good day, and he kind of had the feeling that he wasn't really impressing the team leader either, so when Nick's foot slipped on a recently cleaned floor and he fell to the ground, catching his elbow painfully on the corner of a table, he instantly felt tears springing to his eyes. The pain probably hadn't been something he couldn't handle, but after the stresses of the day, it was like the last straw, and Nick felt himself slowly breaking down. He had sat there on the floor for a few long seconds, trying to gather himself together, his injured arm cradled in close to his chest as he breathed deeply and slowly.

He had realised that he really needed to get up and get back to work; after all, there were people waiting for him and he didn't want to let them down any more than he felt he already had done, so he got to his feet and reached for the cleaning supplies. However, his elbow was genuinely paining him so much that the simple movement jarred him all over again. He sneaked a peek at his arm and his eyes had widened when he saw that there was a long red mark running along his skin where he had fallen. He rubbed at the mark tentatively and then the idea struck him that he could pass that pain on to Mark, and get on with his day as though nothing had happened. He was sure Mark wouldn't mind, and when Nick got the chance to explain everything that night Mark would understand why Nick had done it. Nick had never actually attempted to pass his pain off before, or even really considered it, so he wasn't completely sure what to do, but he decided to give it a go all the same.

After a few minutes had passed and still nothing had gotten better, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, quickly texting Mark and asking him to take it for him, assuming that Mark would know what to do better than Nick did. But, Mark didn't reply in any way to Nick's message, and Nick really needed to hurry himself up, so he decided to just get on with his day. He had spent the next few hours at work still trying halfheartedly to pass the pain on, even though it had eased on its own in the meantime, just to see if he could do it, and when it still failed to work, he began to get more and more confused. Surely it shouldn't be  _ that _ difficult?

When he'd left the studio that night, he'd texted his flatmate, Gillian, asking her to make sure she stayed in that evening because he needed to talk to her. Gillian had met her soulmate around the same sort of time Nick had met Mark, so they'd pretty much gone down the same road together, and Nick felt as though he could confide in her. So he did just that.

The suspicions in the back of Nick's mind - that he absolutely did not want to admit to - were only confirmed more and more as his and Gillian's conversation went on. She'd informed him that it  _ was _ as simple as just willing the pain away to pass it on, and that there wasn't any way for the other person to block that - which had been Nick's last remaining hope. They could choose to pass it straight back if they wanted to, but the pain would still go away for the briefest moment, like a flicker, which it hadn't done for Nick that afternoon.

Nick had made the slightly strange decision to not confront Mark there and then, but he was very wary around him from then on. 

Their relationship had sort of become doomed that day, and Nick didn't think it would ever be fully fixed, couldn't see how they would be able to go back to the way they used to be.

Nick hadn't been as good at hiding his feelings as he would have hoped to be, and only a few days passed before Mark questioned him about what was going on, why Nick was acting so differently. Mark had decided to have that conversation while drunk, so it hadn't taken very long at all for the truth to come out, mainly because Mark had confessed to everything without even properly realising what he was saying.

Mark had told Nick how he still hadn't met his soulmate, or even felt another person's pains, and how he knew how much Nick wanted to meet his own soulmate, so he had thought that by going along with it and pretending that the two of them really were destined to be together he would be making everyone happy. Of course that hadn't been the case, and ultimately Nick had chosen to get himself out of that toxic relationship there and then. If Mark could lie about something as huge as that, something that was clearly so important to Nick, he didn't know how he would be able to trust Mark about anything any more. Getting himself away from that relationship was the only conclusion.

Ever since then, Nick had been very wary about becoming involved with anyone else. He had actively avoided any form of romantic relationship, promising himself that he would only ever be with his soulmate from then on. When he had felt his soulmate's pain that very first night when he was live on the radio, he had been hit with such mixed emotions. The feeling of,  _ this is it, it's really happening now!  _ was undeniably overwhelming, but there was still a niggling thought in the back of his mind telling him that he was still going to get hurt, regardless of if he actually met his real life soulmate or not. There was still something holding him back.

Anyway, Pixie was drunk, right? She didn't know what she was talking about, this was all just a joke to her. Even sober, Pixie couldn't care less about soulmates, hers or anyone else's. She had met her soulmate when she was very young, only nineteen or so, and they had both decided that they weren't the right people for each other no matter what any determining powers that may be had decided, so they had parted ways very quickly under a mutual and friendly agreement. Nick had found that a little bewildering, but had learned that it was just the way Pixie was. She made all of her own decisions, whether they were hers to make or not.

But she loved to match-make, with anybody. Her lack of interest in soulmates meant she didn't care whether someone was your soulmate or not; if she liked the look of you with someone, she'd try to pair you with them. So, that was all that was happening, wasn't it? She liked the look of Harry - she'd even said so before - and she wanted Nick to be with someone who she liked. It was as simple as that.

And the leg thing… Well, it was either Pixie bigging it up to make Nick more interested in Harry, or if Harry  _ had  _ genuinely hurt himself, it must have all just been one big coincidence. 

Nick had even  _ seen  _ bloody cigarette guy drop the ash on him.  _ Hadn't he?  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that you can watch the trailer for this fic here if you want to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GcDf6r9fn3M (but be aware of minor spoilers if that would bother you!)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** Warning for this chapter: a 'scene' at the club, which is just a little bit of bondage, and spanking. It is described in quite a lot of detail, but I've also cut a lot of it out which I can upload as a oneshot if anyone wants to read it (it will be from Liam's POV). ***

_"How deep is your love,"_  Pixie warbled as she swirled her hips to the Calvin Harris track blasting in the club, clapping her hands above her head, and generally having a great and very drunken time.

Nick, Henry, and Pixie - the usual culprits - were all hanging out in the main area of Stripster. It was the eve of Nick's 32nd birthday, and also the eve of Nick's last night of freedom before his life would be taken over by the breakfast show. Not that Nick was complaining! He was well aware that this would probably be the greatest achievement of his life if he managed to pull it off.

His friends had decided to mark the momentous events with a trip out to Stripster, in which they had promised to pay for absolutely anything Nick wanted that night - although Nick had already been up to the bar and brought his own set of drinks for everyone, so that hadn't exactly gone to plan.

Nick vowed to just let his hair loose that night, because god only knew when he'd get the opportunity to do it again. He had no idea how much the early mornings would affect his body, despite trying to do practice runs throughout the whole week just to test himself.

"Go on, Pix!" Henry cheered from beside Nick, handing her a shot which she gratefully accepted without halting her dancing.

Nick spared Pixie a glance, a quick encouraging thumbs up, before his eyes drifted back to the door that led to the private rooms. Nick had watched Harry disappear through that door about half an hour ago, and his eyes had been somewhat trained on that general area ever since, zoning out a little as Pixie and Henry chatted next to him.

It was because of this that Nick was one of the first people in the whole club to notice Harry re-enter the main area; the other person being a short-ish, older-looking gentleman, who walked purposefully straight over to Harry and stopped him with a hand on his arm, which Harry politely but firmly shook off.

The man said something to Harry, but Harry appeared to be brushing him off, while looking genuinely apologetic. The two wandered over to the bar and Harry seemed to buy the guy a drink and also handed him a slip of paper before Harry walked away into the staff area of the club.

Nick startled when he felt a hand land on his arm, and turned his head to see that Pixie had reclaimed her seat next to him. She seemed a little out of breath, and was looking right at him.

"...What?" Nick asked after a moment, guessing she'd said something.

"I just said, as it's a special occasion, Hen and I were thinking about going to watch Hairy's scene tonight, if you're interested?" Pixie asked, reaching for one of the last remaining shots on the table.

"Yeah, sure," Nick shrugged, eyes flicking absentmindedly over to the spot Harry had gone to. "I don't want to be sat out here on my own, do I?"

"No, of course not," Pixie smirked, a knowing look in her eyes that Nick tried to ignore.

Nick had seen the timetable earlier and knew that Harry’s scene was due to start at 1:15, with the preparation and introductions starting at 1:00. That left forty minutes to drink some more and take in the atmosphere of the club a little in the meantime.

Nick used the time to down a few more shots, do a little bit of dancing, and accompany Henry outside the club for a smoke - keeping a wary eye out for any stray ash flying around. He also found himself talking to a very innocent looking guy who had apparently come to the strip club to pull, which, interesting. Nick could not understand the appeal of that in the slightest, seeing as pulling in a regular club or pub was bad enough, but each to their own.

Harry had re-appeared with about twenty minutes to go, this time in considerably less clothing than he had been in all night so far - or, in fact, at all since Nick had known him - wearing only a pair of small black pants and a black shirt left unbuttoned to show off his torso. He walked right past Nick's table, and Nick noticed that he was sporting his name badge with _Harry_ and the club's logo on his hip; the lowest he'd worn it since Nick had known him.

He had walked purposefully through the crowd and back through the door to the private rooms, so Nick could only assume that he was already heading through to the scene room to get himself ready. Which only served to make Nick extra twitchy and even more eager to get in there with him.

After finishing their drinks, it had just turned one o'clock, so the three of them got up and made their way to the back rooms, which Nick had never even seen before. The hallway was almost eerily quiet, with several closed doors lining the walls, leading off to various different rooms. They came to a stop outside _Room 5,_ where a stocky looking guy took their money to enter, and then they were inside.

A few seats were already taken when they got there - one of them by the guy Nick had seen Harry talking to earlier on - but the three of them still managed to get pretty much central seats.

Harry was also already in the room. He had lost the shirt he had been wearing to walk through the club, and was kneeling on the floor over in the far corner. He was talking quietly to another worker, who was squatting down in front of him. Nick quickly recognised the other person as being Liam from the other night.

As a few more people entered the room and took their seats around them, Nick took the opportunity to check out the room they were in.

It was a pretty small, intimate room. There was a single row of seats facing a black cross in the centre of the room, which had gold ties attached to the corners of it, and a gold blindfold hanging from the top. On the far wall facing Nick, and the audience, there was a much larger range of restraints and implements hanging up, most of them gold. Nick had to admire the club's determination to keep up the colour scheme. Nick managed to spot a riding crop, a flogger, and a large wooden paddle among many others.

There was a chair with a padded seat in the adjacent corner to the one Harry was kneeling in, and in one of the corners behind Nick there was a medium sized black cabinet, which Nick assumed housed other implements that were way out of his depth.

Nick was very aware of Harry and Liam's voices across the room, although he was completely unable to make out any words, even in the almost silence of the rest of the room. The tones of their voices were deliberately gentle, hushed.

As the room filled up around them, Nick tried his hardest not to stare at Harry, but his eyes kept being drawn to him regardless of his efforts. Harry would run a hand through his hair, and Nick's eyes would automatically follow the movement, or he would shift ever so slightly, and Nick's eyes would instantly fly across to him to see what he was doing. At one point Harry let out a soft laugh, and Nick had to bite his own lip to stop himself from grinning. He was being _a creep,_ for god's sake.

After a few more minutes, Liam straightened up and headed over to the door, and the lights began to dim, until just the centre of the room was fully lit up under a gold spotlight just like the ones that lit up the dancers in the main club. Harry was now almost hidden in the darkness, but Nick could just about make his figure out. His head was down, but when Liam moved back into the centre of the room and gestured him over, Harry moved instantly. Nick had wondered if he was going to crawl but he rose up to his feet and walked confidently into the middle of the room, stopping when he was stood in the centre of the room directly under the spotlight. His shoulders were slightly hunched, as if he was trying to make himself appear smaller, and when Liam pointed to his feet, Harry sank gracefully down to his knees immediately, hands in his lap and head bowed again.

Liam cleared his throat and turned to address the audience.

"Hello, I'm Liam and this is Harry. What you're going to watch here is a pain and sensation-play scene. Nothing too intense; no blood, no wax, no long lasting marks, and also no sexual elements; besides some nudity if you count that as sexual, which, that's your call, really, isn't it? If this doesn't sound like your cup of tea, please feel free to leave now and we can arrange for you to get some of your money back." Looking round at the room at large, Liam made sure no one was leaving. "Good. Now, just while we're on the subject of money, because I know it can be a bit of a touchy subject, we have a tips box over there by the door," he gestured and there was indeed a little black box attached to the wall with 'TIPS' written on it a fancy gold script. "If any of you _want_ to, feel free to leave us any tips. This is optional, so please don't feel obligated to."

Liam glanced down at Harry, and then took a breath before launching into his health and safety speech, talking through all of the rules and regulations. They were the same as the rules for the whole club in general, pretty much. No touching unless explicitly told so - which Liam made clear was not acceptable in this case - and absolutely no photographs.

"Can I check that everyone's phones are off, or at least completely put away, please? We don't have the right to confiscate your phones, but I'll just remind you again that there are no photographs permitted under _any_ circumstances. You will be fined and removed from the building if there is evidence of any," Liam reiterated, and when no one moved, he smiled. "Thank you. Okay, so, I suppose that just leaves us to get started now."

Liam leaned down and he and Harry briefly spoke in an undertone before Liam retrieved one of the gold leather restraints and proceeded to tie Harry's wrists together, so they were crossed. Then he started pushing at Harry's knee with his foot while pulling him forward by his joined wrists, until Harry's knees slid and he was suddenly lying face down on the floor, face turning to the side - away from the audience - at the last minute so he didn't seriously injure himself.

"Get up on your feet," Liam commanded, turning his attention away from Harry while he grabbed another of the leather restraints hanging from the cross.

Harry remained still for a moment before wriggling tentatively, pushing up with his bound wrists before realising that wouldn't get him anywhere and turning himself over onto his back. His eyes were facing up to the ceiling before he managed to sit himself up - something Nick would _definitely_ struggle at in that situation, if for whatever reason he ever managed to find himself in that situation - but Harry made it look practically effortless. Practice, maybe?

Once sitting, Harry paused for a second, glancing over his shoulder behind him at Liam, who tsked. "Hurry up, we haven't got all night."

Harry flushed a pretty colour, eyes facing forward again. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. God knows how he did it, but Harry then managed to manoeuvre his body into a squatting position, where he wobbled ever so slightly, before steadily rising up to his feet.

"Good work, Harry," Liam praised, as Harry turned to face him.

Liam took hold of Harry's wrists in one hand, his hip in another and guided him over to the cross. He pulled Harry's wrists up and over the top of the cross before tying him down to it even more securely. Liam pulled Harry's hips backwards so Harry was slightly bent over, his back a little arched, and ass sticking out towards the audience.

"Can you hold that position?" Liam asked, not moving his hands from Harry's hips.

"Yes, sir," Harry spoke for the first time, his voice sounding as gorgeous as Nick remembered it. Deep and slow and perfect. Nick found himself thinking about how Harry's voice would definitely go down well on the radio; almost felt as though he was jealous of Harry's voice.

Liam let go of Harry's hips and started walking over to the wall of implements but Nick wasn’t interested in that, because he now had an unrestricted view of Harry's pert little arse, still clad in the uniform pants. Harry's legs were shaking almost imperceptibly, but they looked so beautiful as well, long long legs that stretched on for days.

"What are you feeling, Harry?" Liam asked as he turned to face Harry.

Harry wiggled a little and cleared his throat before replying. "A seven, sir, maybe eight."

Liam hummed and turned to look over the implements. "How about seven for your thighs, and eight for your ass?"

"Yes, sir," Harry responded.

Liam reached for a black wooden paddle with gold linings, and brought it back into the middle of the room with him. He held it up so Harry could see and received a nod from him. Liam walked round to Harry's rear again and put the paddle down on the floor by Harry's feet, before setting to work warming Harry's ass up.

He grabbed both cheeks in his hands, practically able to fit a whole cheek in one hand, squeezing them roughly, and spreading them apart a little. Harry made a small noise and rose up slightly onto his tiptoes, but a sharp smack on his ass brought him back onto his feet.

"None of that. I'll tie your legs if I have to," Liam said, going back to squeezing Harry's cheeks in his hands. "Do I need to do that?" Liam asked, when Harry didn't respond.

"No, sir," Harry answered, voice loud in the hush of the room. "Sorry, sir."

Liam began a system of kneading one cheek in one hand while pinching or scratching the other, until he placed one hand on Harry's lower back and used the other to deliver another sharp smack to Harry's ass. This time Liam didn't stop after one, laying a steady rhythm of smacks evenly across Harry's cheeks. It was the absolute strangest feeling, and Nick pinned it down to being so focused on the scene in front of him, but Nick almost felt as though he could _feel_ the smacks landing on Harry's skin, like he could actually feel the sting of them as they worked their way into Harry's skin.

When Liam started working down Harry's thighs a little way, Harry's skin was beginning to colour as Nick watched, and Nick slowly began to realise that the more colour rushed to the surface of Harry's skin, the more the stinging sensation he could feel in his own legs grew. He forced himself to breathe. This was normal. He was just too intently focused. That was all it was.

Once Liam was apparently satisfied with his handiwork, he picked the paddle up and rubbed it over Harry's ass cheeks, down over his thighs, just letting Harry know it was there.

He began tapping the paddle gently around Harry's ass, slowly working up to gradually harder and harder hits until he drew back and smacked the paddle down hard into Harry's ass. Nick let out a small noise at the exact same time as Harry hissed.

Nick made himself count the hits to try and distract himself a little. After the fifth, all at a pretty hard force, Harry's hips rolled just a little, not quite trying to pull away because he went straight back into position, but almost like he was trying to shake the pain away, and Nick's own hips jerked in his seat. He wanted desperately to reach around and rub the backs of his legs. They were really starting to hurt now and he was a little concerned as to why. Although somewhere hidden deep in his mind where he didn't want to go to, he was getting his suspicions; of course he was. His conversation the other night with Pixie replayed itself in his head, unbidden.

"Keep still," Liam said, curving one hand around Harry's hip, and sending the paddle flying into his ass again. _Six._ This time Harry bit out a groan, head thunking forward onto the cross. The sound of his forehead hitting the wood echoed loud in Nick's own head, making Nick wince as a small ache quickly formed at his temple. Nick's eyes widened, his heartbeat pounding in his chest. "What's your colour?" Liam asked, rubbing at Harry's hip.

"Green, sir," Harry replied, not lifting his head from where it rested against the cross.

Liam landed two smacks in quick succession onto Harry's ass and Harry's arms tensed where he was tied. The next smack landed on Harry's bare upper thigh and his leg jerked - not quite breaking position but pretty close.

"Harry. Don't make me tie you up," Liam warned. "Last chance."

The next smack to Harry's other thigh was a little harder and Harry visibly tensed. He now had two red blotches, one on each thigh, and the thigh that had just been hit was trembling ever so slightly. Nick shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"What are you feeling? Colour? Number?" Liam asked again.

Harry's voice was a little tight when he answered, "Green. Seven, please, Sir."

"No problem. Five more over then we'll get these off," Liam said, plucking at the waistband of Harry's pants, before rubbing over the marks on Harry's thighs. Harry didn't react in any way.

The next four smacks landed in each place in turn: left cheek, left thigh, right cheek, right thigh. Harry's right thigh was definitely trembling now - Nick's eyes were fixed to it a little bit - but Liam didn't reprimand him. It didn't seem to be something Harry could control anyway.

Nick startled as he felt a hand clasp down onto his thigh, eyes snapping down to it instantly. Pixie had her hand resting on the top of his thigh and he looked up at her questioningly.

"Are you okay?" she mouthed, concern clear in her eyes. "You're so tense." She patted his thigh and Nick was about to reply when the sound of the paddle smacking into Harry's ass rang out across the room again and Nick couldn't hold back the sound he made. The noise had just shocked him, that was all. _Right?_

He turned his attention quickly back to the scene in front of him, ignoring Pixie's question. Liam dropped the paddle to the floor with a clunk, his hands running over Harry's cheeks, dipping under his pants, soothing.

"You're being so good, Harry. You're taking it so well," Liam said, his voice gentle, calming, as his hands continued to massage Harry's ass cheeks. "Can you take more? Colour? Number?"

"Green, sir. Seven," Harry answered. "Maybe six."

"If you need me to switch to six, tell me, but I'm going to continue with seven unless you do," Liam said, his hands toying with Harry’s waistband.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, and then Liam tugged Harry's pants down over the swell of his ass.

Liam brought Harry's pants down to his slightly-spread knees, effectively restricting his movements a little, and ran a hand over Harry's now-bare cheeks, squeezing a little and then reaching for the paddle.

This time when Liam brought the paddle down - as hard as he had been hitting before - Harry's hands grappled at the cross above his head. Nick watched as Harry's ass jiggled, and he saw the skin bloom momentarily white before Nick's whole vision whited out along with it. He gripped onto the edge of the seat he was sitting in, knuckles tight.

Nick knew he had to get out of that room, this wasn't normal. He was actually _hallucinating._

He shook his head, and when his vision came back into focus, Liam was rubbing the paddle over Harry's ass, causing Harry's hips to twitch a tiny bit. When he started hitting Harry with light rapid-fire smacks, Nick snapped and quickly rose to his feet, not bothering to explain himself as he quickly moved over to the door, wrenching it open.

He took a quick glance behind him through the gap of the door as it swung shut and saw that Liam was looking back at him. A wave of guilt washed over him at interrupting the scene but before he could think to say anything the door clicked shut, and Nick was left standing in the long empty hallway alone, wondering what the hell was wrong with him.

He spotted a bathroom sign a little way away, and quickly made his way into it, eyeing himself warily in the mirror above the sink before stepping away and locking himself inside a stall.

It was unavoidable though; Nick was still in pain a long time later as he assumed the scene was continuing inside that room. He rested his forehead against the cold wall of the stall, trying to steady his breathing. He couldn't help crying out every now and again, and could only imagine what Harry's reactions were inside that room. After a particularly harsh pain that had Nick practically shouting into the wall, the sensations stopped suddenly, the pain dulling, although Nick's ass and legs continued to tingle and prickle where he stood.

_So, this was it_ , he thought. He considered taking his jeans down to have a look, even though he knew it didn't work like that; _you felt the pain of your soulmates but there were never any marks._

He tensed up against the wall of the cubicle when he felt a new pain beginning, short sharp pinches that were more irritating than anything else. He took a deep breath and prepared himself as best he could.

When the sensations finally _blessedly_ stopped completely, Nick sat stock still in his cubicle, breathing heavily. No one else had entered the toilets the whole time he'd been in there, and for that he could only be grateful.

However, once the pain had eased off for a good long while, he was suddenly aware of a rush of noise pouring in from the hallway outside. He figured that the scene had ended; refused to let himself accept the meaning behind that, considering that his pain had stopped at the same sort of time.

After a few more minutes, the main door to the toilets opened. Nick remained where he was, tucked away in his cubicle, but when he heard Henry's voice tentatively calling his name, he decided to man up and get out of there.

He pulled back the lock with slightly shaking fingers, and forced a smile onto his face. He must have pulled it off pretty well because Henry didn't seem suspicious as Nick moved over to the sink to wash his hands.  

"How was the scene?" He asked, forcing his voice to sound casual as he met Henry's eyes in the mirror behind him.

"Really good! That Harry's a damn good lad," Henry said, a smile on his face. "Me and Pix tipped them, gave a little extra for you. So, uh, what happened in there?" He frowned, looking a little concerned.

Nick shrugged, trying for nonchalance, and moved across to dry his hands. The roaring sound of the dryer saved him from having to answer immediately. He wondered if Pixie had told Henry anything about her suspicions.

"Just didn't feel great, too many free shots," Nick tried to laugh. "I'm good, now, though. Shall we - ?" He asked, moving to the door and pulling it open, looking back over his shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Do you want to get home?" Henry asked, sounding worried.

"Not sure," Nick said. "Let's just get back out there and see what happens."

_See what happens._ Never had such a simple, innocent statement held so much meaning.

Now that Nick had actually met Harry, and he was almost entirely sure that Harry was indeed his soulmate, his feelings towards having an actual soulmate were exactly the same as they had been back on that first night he'd felt a foreign pain. It's true, Nick had felt a sort of instant connection to Harry; Harry had been so welcoming and smiley and just seemed like such a genuine person from the very first conversation they'd had at the bar.

Truthfully, Nick would feel honoured to call Harry his soulmate, his _partner,_ but there was still that fear there that no matter how lovely Harry seemed, something was going to go wrong.

There was a big part of Nick that was considering simply leaving the club and refusing to ever return. He didn't want to hurt Harry if he wasn't able to give him what he needed. Nick didn't feel as though he'd be a good person for Harry, he was too scared to commit, even to someone as seemingly perfect as Harry was. Nick thought it would be much fairer in the long run to just back away before either of them got in too deep.

For entirely selfish reasons, though - and because it was his _birthday_ for god's sake, it had officially turned midnight and everything; what a birthday treat! - Nick found himself still sitting there in the club. Pixie and Henry were laughing and drinking beside him, unaware of Nick's shift in mood. Nick was too preoccupied to be very good company, entirely lost in his thoughts. He looked around the club, hoping for another sight of Harry.

Unless Harry had already re-entered the club during the time Nick had locked himself away in the toilets, Harry was still in the private room, and Nick could not stop his eyes from drifting over to the doorway that led down there, a strangely darkened echo of his actions earlier in the night.

Nick's heart skipped a beat as he saw Liam enter the club and walk briskly through the crowd straight to a staff only door. Nick's eyes snapped straight back over to the door to the private rooms but Harry didn't follow. Liam re-emerged a few minutes later with a black bundle in his hands, and walked straight through the crowd to the hallway again.

Nick watched the door for a little longer, but eventually grew too restless.

"Do you want any more drinks?" He asked Pixie and Henry, who both nodded gratefully. "I'll go and get them," Nick said.

Ignoring their halfhearted protests of _but you're the birthday boy!,_ Nick rose to his feet and headed over to the bar, just to try to occupy his mind with something other than _Harry, Harry, Harry,_ and the pain Nick could still feel just barely lingering over his body.

He ordered a fresh tray of shots, mainly just for Pixie and Henry - Nick wasn't really feeling like drinking anymore. He leaned against the bar while he waited for his drinks to be poured, and his gaze fell almost instantly onto Liam and Harry. They had appeared out of nowhere in the two minutes it had taken for Nick to walk to the bar and order his drinks, the moment he chose to stop looking, and took his eyes off the door. _Typical_.

They were both fully dressed, and seemed completely relaxed as they walked through the club. Nick's eyes widened as he realised they were walking straight to the bar, straight for _him_. He turned his back to them, pretending to be completely fascinated by the bartender pouring his shots.

Apparently luck was not on Nick's side that night because a few short moments later, he felt a presence at his side, and risked a glance, only to see someone clad in all black stood right next to him. Of course he did.

Nick avoided looking directly at Harry as he gathered his tray of shots and walked away from the bar. He put the tray down on the table, and it was pounced on immediately by Pixie and Henry. Nick rolled his eyes and found himself looking back to the bar where Harry was perched up on a stool there, Liam stood next to him. They looked to be deep in conversation but as Nick watched, they quickly hugged each other before Liam walked off into the throng of people in the club, leaving Harry on his own there.

Harry picked up a glass of something colourful from the bar and sipped at it as he looked around the club, his eyes sweeping the room. Nick forced himself to keep looking as Harry's gaze drew nearer to him. Sure enough a few seconds later, the two of them made eye contact and Nick offered up a small smile, which Harry returned immediately, a grin taking over his face as he raised his drink up to Nick across the room. Nick grabbed a shot from the tray and held it up in return and Harry laughed, sipping at his drink again.

Harry's attention travelled elsewhere but Nick was suddenly feeling a whole lot braver, so after downing the shot in his hand, he decided to head over and talk to him. He didn't have to be obvious about anything, just have a general normal conversation with him, he could _do_ this.

"Shouldn't you be working?" Nick said in a mock-stern voice when he was close enough for Harry to hear, and Harry jumped a little, his drink sloshing in his glass, which made Nick feel guilty. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you!"

"Hi! No, it's fine, don't worry. I was miles away." Harry was beaming, his dimples out in full force on his cheeks as his eyes twinkled up at Nick. Eyes weren't supposed to twinkle, were they? But Harry's managed it. Of course they did. "I've finished my shift for the night actually, so I'm alright. How are you? Having a good night?"

Nick slid onto the stool next to Harry's, unable to stop the easy smile slipping onto his own face. "I'm good, thank you. Having a great time, as always! I really love this place."

"Yeah, it is a great night out," Harry agreed, nodding. "I'm glad you're having a good time. I've seen you here quite a lot lately, actually, so we must be doing something right."

"You know, you really are. Thanks!" Nick said. He paused, considering whether to bring up the scene. That was kind of a dangerous territory, and although Nick felt like Harry was a very easy person to talk to, he still didn't know how far he could go.

While he was still deliberating over what to do, Harry spoke up again. "I'm actually about to head out now to this diner I go to quite a lot. Do you fancy maybe coming along with me?"

Harry seemed so confident asking and Nick was about to agree without even thinking about it, not caring about seeming overly eager, but then he looked across to where Pixie and Henry were practically laying down in their booth and he sighed, giving in.

"I wish I could. I think I should probably stay here and look after my mates, though, they've had a bit too much," Nick said, looking over at Harry apologetically.

"Which ones are your mates?" Harry asked, smiling.

"Those two over there," Nick gestured resignedly, and Harry huffed out a laugh.

"They look like they're having a lovely time," he giggled. "Good on them. Special occasion?"

"Well, it's my birthday, but they have definitely taken full advantage of the excuse to drink," Nick admitted shyly, and Harry's eyes widened.

"Oh my god! Happy birthday, then!" he said, excitedly, and before Nick could register what was happening, he was being pulled into a very warm, surprisingly comforting hug. Nick forced himself to relax into the hug and just managed to wrap an arm around Harry in return before Harry was pulling away again, signalling a bartender over. "Here, what do you want?" Harry asked Nick and refused to take no for an answer, so Nick eventually accepted the offer of the free drink.

They sat in companionable silence as they sipped at their drinks, Harry's arm brushing against Nick's every so often.

"Just to let you know," Harry said after a while and Nick looked at him, saw that Harry's gaze was trained on Pixie and Henry. "They're not going to be allowed into the private rooms like that. Little heads up. I wouldn't even bother trying, to be honest; they'd possibly get thrown out altogether."

Nick looked back at Harry, surprised. "Oh, okay. Thanks for the warning."

Harry shrugged, meeting Nick's eyes. "No problem."

He lifted his glass up to his lips again and Nick watched Harry's throat bob as he drank. Harry grinned across at Nick when he'd finished, turning to place the empty glass on the bar top.

"You should probably go and look after your friends, then, love," he said, sliding down from his stool. "It was good to see you again."

Nick blinked, taken aback slightly. "Yeah, good to see you, too. Thanks."

Harry smiled easily. "Don't be a stranger. Come say hi whenever you like, yeah?"

Nick nodded. "Of course."

"Enjoy the rest of your birthday! I'll see you around," Harry said, starting to walk away towards the staff door.

Nick just had the presence of mind to shout a quick 'see you' after Harry, to which Harry turned, raising his hand in acknowledgement. His dimples were ever present on his face, visible even from that distance, and then he turned and was gone again, leaving Nick to finish his drink alone at the bar.

~~~

Harry walked down the street with a slightly embarrassing smile on his face. It was always nice to find someone he could have an actual conversation with at work; the people he worked with were all amazing, but to really connect with a customer like that was kind of rare.

It was obvious what the vast majority of people who came into the club were looking for, and Harry could usually spot straight away if someone was approaching him for the wrong reason, but every so often someone came along who just genuinely seemed to want to talk. Harry loved those people the best, ever the conversationalist himself. After performing in a scene especially, Harry loved to be able to just talk to someone, which is why usually Liam didn't want to leave his side after a scene. Harry just needed to be reminded that it hadn't been sexual in any way, that it was okay that he'd chosen to do it, that he was still valid, and cared for, and mainly that he was _okay._

As Harry pushed the door to the diner open, his bag brushed against his rib where a clothes peg had been earlier and he winced at the brief sting. He knew he would be feeling the remnants of that scene for a while, but that was fine with him. He quite often admired his marks in a mirror after performing, loving the memories that came with them, feeling the ghost of the touches, and remembering the floaty feeling he had experienced at the time.

The diner was practically empty, not that Harry had ever seen it very busy, and Harry caught sight of Louis over behind the bar straight away, although Louis had his head bent and didn't seem to have noticed Harry. Louis was wearing a pale pink jumper that night, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and he looked so cuddly and soft that Harry just wanted to go over and hug him; but he figured that might be a little strange, decided that hugging one near-stranger a day should be enough for him, so stopped himself from doing so.

Harry found himself limping ever so slightly as he approached a free table, and he kept his eyes on Louis as he sunk into a chair, willing him to notice that Harry was there so he would come over and say hello. It was pure chance, therefore, that Harry caught sight of Louis' wince as Harry lowered himself down onto his sore backside.

Harry's brow furrowed, as he watched Louis' cheeks flush; obvious even from across the room. Louis' eyes skittered over to Harry, making very brief, slightly panicked eye contact, before his gaze darted back down to the bar top he was apparently fixated on.

Harry shifted, trying to find a comfortable position, and noted Louis' pained expression still present on his face. Harry sat and waited patiently for Louis to come over to take his order, but a few long minutes passed with Louis showing no inclination of doing so.

Not wanting to be rude, Harry tentatively cleared his throat, smiling when Louis' eyes darted straight over to him at the sound.

"Hey, Lou!" Harry called across the room. "Could I get something to eat, please?"

Louis coughed. "Um, yeah… Let me get someone for you."

Harry frowned, slightly confused. He watched as Louis walked the short distance through the staff door, noting the slight limp Louis was sporting. He wondered what had happened to him. A couple of seconds passed, and the staff door opened. Louis re-entered the diner but avoided Harry's gaze as he returned to his position behind the bar. Harry was honestly feeling a little bit offended; it really didn't seem as though Louis was too busy to serve him, so what was going on?

A blond lad approached Harry's table, his name badge declaring him to be Niall.

"Hiya, mate. What can I get for you?" Niall was very clearly Irish, full of enthusiasm, and he had such a sunny smile that Harry's sudden bad mood dissipated a little. He ordered a chicken salad and a coffee, and Niall hurried off to get it for him.

As soon as Niall had left, Harry's gaze travelled back to the bar, where Louis was _still_ frowning intently down at the bar top as though it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Harry decided not to press it, and thanked Niall for the food when he brought it out for him a while later. As Harry ate his food, he could feel a stare burning into him and he glanced up a few times only to catch Louis' eyes flicking away swiftly.

Harry cocked his head, considering whether to call out to Louis or not. There was clearly something going on that was bothering Louis. Harry knew that the two of them weren't exactly close, weren't even friends, not really. But Harry had gotten so used to talking to Louis every time he came into the diner, and he hadn't had the chance to see him since he'd spilled the -

_Oh._ Harry's mind cleared suddenly. Louis was pissed off about the coffee incident? Still?

Harry rolled his eyes as he dug back into his food. Right, okay, then. Whatever.

As he continued eating, he only grew more confused again though, remembering the words on the note that had been left for him, signed with the initial L. Who else could have left that besides Louis? _So what was his problem now?_

Harry could feel Louis looking at him again, and decided to just bite the bullet.

He gave it a couple of seconds and then quickly looked up. "Hey. You alright?" he said, voice carrying easily across the empty diner to Louis.

Louis looked incredibly shifty then, but nodded jerkily. “Yeah, I'm good. Uh, how are you?"

"I'm okay, thank you," Harry said cautiously, eyes narrowing. "Are you - are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't I be?" Louis responded, a little defensively.

"I didn't mean anything bad," Harry protested. "Just you seem a little different tonight?"

"No, I don't," Louis answered quickly, fiddling with his fringe. "I have to get on with work."

Harry took a pointed look around the empty diner, and Louis flushed but didn't say anything.

"Um… okay," Harry said slowly, brow furrowing. He felt irrationally upset at the way Louis was acting towards him. It wasn't like Louis owed Harry anything, but something about this didn't feel right.

Harry watched as Louis walked to the other end of the bar, further away from Harry's table, and he was definitely walking with a bit of a limp. Harry shifted in his seat and the backs of his thighs zinged with pain, the remnants of the scene coming back to haunt him again.

Frowning, Harry purposefully dug his legs into the chair to feel the pain deeper, but froze when he heard Louis gasp. He looked up at him and saw Louis staring straight back at him, looking genuinely a little scared.

Harry tipped his head to the side calculatingly, and Louis gulped, looking away again.

It was a bit of a whim that made Harry do what he did next - the tiredness lingering in Harry's body, the adrenaline from the scene, the slight hurt at the way Louis was acting towards him - and he surreptitiously slid his fork underneath the table. Thinking quickly of where the best place to do it would be, and deciding on his hand - the most obvious to show as proof, he figured - he slipped his other hand under the table, bracing himself for the pain.

He really wasn't thinking seriously at all. It was more a case of _oh my god, imagine if…_ that made him do it.

He took a deep breath, keeping his eyes casually on Louis, as he brought the fork to the top of his left hand, just gently poking at it a few times to gear himself up.

_Was he really going to do this? What was he even thinking?_

His hands twitched, preparing to abort mission, but before he could fully talk himself out of it or second guess anything, Harry quickly jabbed the fork into the top of his hand, hard, biting at the inside of his cheek to stop himself making a sound.

Louis, however, didn't have the advantage Harry had. He didn't have the chance to brace himself, and the very next second Louis shouted out, his left hand jerking violently.

Harry's heart instantly started beating doubly as hard in his chest, and he sat totally frozen for a second, his thoughts stilling completely, narrowing down to the key realisation.

_Louis._

"Louis - " Harry began, pushing his chair back away from the table, but Louis moved faster, heading for the staff door again. "Louis, wait!" Harry called, rushing to try and intercept him.

"No, I don't want - I - " Louis stopped, took an audibly deep breath, and turned to face Harry, his face not giving anything away, despite Harry searching it for a sign of understanding. "What, Harry?" Louis finished wearily.

Harry blinked. He didn't know how to _explain_ it, hadn't really anticipated what he would say when this event happened.

"Um. Your hand," he began haltingly, and Louis frowned. "I - it was me."

"What are you talking about, Harry?" Louis asked, and let out a laugh that sounded a little choked, forced. "Do you need more caffeine? Are you extra sleep-deprived today?"

"Uh, no," Harry said slowly. "Your hand, what happened to your hand, I did it." He held out his hand, trying to ignore the tremor that ran through it and hoping Louis wouldn't comment either. The prong marks were evident on the top of his hand, standing out red against his skin.

Louis' eyes widened briefly, almost imperceptibly, before his face smoothed out again. "You ought to be more careful, Harry," he laughed. "How the hell did you manage that?"

"Lou," Harry said, his voice soft. "I think you might be - I think I might be your…" he trailed off under the intensity of Louis' stare, sighed. "I think we're soulmates."

Louis' face closed off suddenly, any remaining light leaving Louis' eyes. It was unnerving.

"No, I don't think so, Harry. I didn't feel anything." Louis' voice lacked any sort of emotion as he spoke, edging closer towards the door. "I think you really need to get home, get some sleep, maybe, yeah?"

"Louis. I - I _saw_ you, I know it hurt you too," Harry tried to explain but Louis simply shook his head.

"Nothing hurt me," he said. "I thought I was going to drop a glass, and got scared. We don't need any more broken glass in this place, do we?" He laughed.

"Louis, _please_ ," Harry said, not understanding what was happening. They were having two completely different conversations, and the conversation Harry was trying to have was a very important one. "I really think we might be soulmates."

Louis' expression softened slightly, although he still had some sort of a guard up, shutting Harry off. "Look, Harry, I'm sure you're a really lovely person. Well, no, I _know_ you're a really lovely person. And I'm sure you'll find your, you know, your _person_ or whatever, one day, you know _,_ but, uh - I don't think that person is me, babe. I'm sorry."

Harry could see that he was losing Louis; he was inching ever closer to the door, and Harry realised he wasn't going to get anywhere that night. Whatever was going on in Louis' head was too big for Harry to break through right then. He sighed.

"Thank you. I - uh - I hope you're okay," he said, a bit pathetically.

"I'm fine. Have a good night, babe," Louis said, his voice impossibly gentle now, and he turned, reaching for the staff door.

Harry didn't want to - _couldn't_ \- just leave it at that, though, so before Louis could push the door open, Harry spoke up again. "Um, Lou, can I give you my mobile number? Just, you know, so we can keep in touch, or something?"

Louis turned round, suddenly looking incredibly sad. Harry wanted to pull him into a hug again, for purely selfless reasons that time, but he didn't want to force any unwanted physical contact on him and just about refrained from reaching out for him.

"Yeah, of course," Louis said, and Harry quickly scribbled down his number on a serviette, trying to ignore the embarrassing and glaringly obvious marks now displayed on his hand.

"Here, don't be a stranger," Harry said, holding out the serviette. Louis smiled and took it, glancing at it before pushing it into his jeans pocket.

"I won't. I'll see you," Louis said. "Bye, Harry."

Then he was finally gone, pushing open the staff door and disappearing through it. Harry stood staring at the closed door for a long moment before taking a deep breath and going to retrieve his things.

Just as he was leaving the diner, he grabbed another serviette and scribbled down a new message to leave for Louis, just because he could. He didn't want to leave it the way he'd left it.

~~~

****_Lou,_  
****_You are so far from forgettable._  
**_Smile blue eyes! :)  
_ ** ****_H_

Louis looked down at the napkin in his lap as he waited for his phone call to ring through, hoping it wasn't too early for his mum to be awake.

It had not been a good twenty-four hours for Louis. He'd even go so far as to say it had been up there in his top three worst days ever. He was absolutely exhausted, and thinking back on the events made him want to curl up into a tiny ball and escape the world for a while.

The day had started with Eleanor's overwhelming happiness; the happiest she'd possibly ever been. Which, ironic, that. She had been up for most of the night messaging her _fucking soulmate_ backwards and forwards. There had been endless proof, endless bonding, and as far as Eleanor was concerned they could get married next week if it was logistically possible.

She didn't seem to spare a second thought for the fact that Louis was going to be either majorly third-wheeling, if her soulmate - turned out it _was_ Matthew Burke - was to move in. That would just be a lovely atmosphere for Louis, really, wouldn't it? But then that was probably preferable to having to pay the rent on a three bedroom London flat with the income of a diner employee if Eleanor was to elope.

He was in a horrible predicament and had left for work in the worst mood possible. He had been absolutely dying for Harry to walk into the diner that night. He wanted nothing more than to have a heart to heart with him, maybe even share a hug. Of course, that had changed towards the end of his shift when Louis' entire body broke out in the strangest pains and aches and stings he'd ever felt. He had felt _similar_ in the past, sure, but nothing like he was having to deal with then.

By the time Harry did indeed walk into the diner, Louis had almost forgotten he'd been waiting for him, too pre-occupied with ' _hat the fuck?'_ s.

He was suddenly so sure that Harry was his own bloody soulmate in that moment; the realisation hit him hard. He saw out of the corner of his eye the way Harry limped across the diner, put two and two together, and wanted to run away, very fast and very far.

Apparently, Harry had been having the same suspicions, but came to a very different conclusion because after about twenty minutes, he decided the logical thing to do would be to _stab his fucking hand._

Louis bolted. He barely even registered what he was saying when he and Harry had talked, besides registering how absolutely devastated Harry looked. Louis didn't want Harry to be sad, it was breaking his heart. He had to get out of there. So he did; he ran away from the lovely Harry.

He felt as though his heart actually broke when he walked back into the diner a good half an hour later and saw the lone serviette tucked neatly underneath what must have been Harry's plate on the top of the bar.

He had, indeed, cracked a smile when he'd read the note, although that was a miracle in itself. Yes, he had smiled, right before his body had embarrassingly betrayed him and tears sprung to his eyes. A lump had risen in Louis' throat quickly, and he had left work there and then, texting Niall a brief excuse later on; _Sorry, lad, felt really sick._ He had no idea if Niall brought it or not. He didn't really care.

Louis had pocketed that little note along with Harry's phone number and had read over Harry's words more times than he'd like to admit since leaving the diner the previous night. He hadn't been able to get much sleep, Harry's words running round and round in his brain whether he was asleep or not.

He felt irritating tears prickling at his eyes again, and bit them back as the dial tone cut off and he heard rustling at the other end.

"Lou? Are you alright, love?" his mum asked, sounding concerned.

He took a deep, slightly shaky breath in, composing himself enough to reply.

"I think it's time for me to move back home now, if that's alright."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that you can watch the trailer for this fic here if you want to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GcDf6r9fn3M (but be aware of minor spoilers if that would bother you!)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** I actually don't think there are any warnings for this chapter! ***

"There, last one done," Louis said, with a huge sigh of relief, as he leaned down to tape up the final box of what felt like hundreds - but was actually only four.  _ Four  _ boxes for all of Louis' London belongings. That further cemented the knowledge for Louis that London was never really supposed to be his home.

Louis had worked his last shift at the diner that afternoon and had headed straight back to his flat with the ever-helpful Niall in tow to finish packing up all of his belongings. He had also recruited the help of Stan - Eleanor was unavailable, off on a date with  _ Matthew -  _ and the three of them had been working themselves hard since then to get everything ready for Louis to leave London and return home the next day.

Niall cheered from across the room where he was currently busy pouring drinks for the three hard workers.    
  
"I feel like we're right back where we started," Stan huffed as he collapsed onto the sofa beside Louis, who was also a little out of breath.

"I know, we are. It had to be done, though, pal," Louis sighed, looking across at him. It was almost like a case of déjà vu. Louis and Stan had been in almost these exact positions four long years ago! That night when - well, Louis wasn't going to dwell on that. That kind of defeated the purpose of moving away from it all. "Honestly, thanks for all of your help, really. Both of you," he added, glancing up at Niall as he approached with the drinks.

"No problem, it was no bother, really," Niall said, perching on the arm of the sofa.

"Of course not. And I did kind of owe you, didn't I, Louis?" Stan said, smiling. "It's so strange that you're heading back to Donny without me, though!"

Louis let out a small tired laugh. "I know, I promise I'll say hello to everyone for you. Oh, and we can FaceTime from all of our old hangouts!"

Stan grinned. "Yes, please, that would be great!"

"You should FaceTime me, too! I've heard so much about the place," Niall chimed in. He paused before a mischievous smile spread on his face. "I'd absolutely love to see Donny Dome," Niall tried to put on an exaggerated Yorkshire accent and failed miserably.

Louis shook his head, laughing. "Sure, why not, Nialler!"

Niall cheered again. "You're a good man, Tommo. I'm really going to miss you, you know."

Louis sighed and leaned back into the couch. "I'll miss you too. I think I might miss this place a little bit actually," he admitted softly. "But I know this is the right thing to do."

"Ah, don't be getting all emotional," Niall said, flicking Louis' leg. "This is not goodbye forever!"

"True, true. But, this is our last night together for god knows how long, though. It's kind of a big deal!" Louis protested.

"It's also mine and Niall's first. It's a bigger deal for us!" Stan replied with a smirk on his face.

"Too right, baby," Niall teased. "We're going to become best friends behind your back now, Lou!"

"God, the stories the two of you could tell each other. I don't think I'm going to leave after all, now!" Louis groaned, burying his face in his hands.

Stan laughed, long and loud. "I think this could be the beginning of a great friendship, Niall!"

"I couldn't agree more," Niall replied, and Louis could  _ hear  _ the grin in his voice.

Louis relaxed back onto the sofa for his last night in London, listening to his friends chat around him. It was strange having his oldest friend and his newest friend there in the same room with him, and Louis realised he was going to find it a little more difficult than he had anticipated to leave London, but he knew deep down that it really was the best decision he could make.

He knew that the goodbyes the next day were going to be difficult. Goodbyes were always kind of bittersweet, but Louis sensed that they would be even more so when he was leaving behind all of those memories, and  _ escaping _ certain memories, to go and make himself some newer ones without his two best friends by his side. 

But he also knew that it wasn't the end, he was going to see both of these people again, he'd make sure of it, even if it was just over a phone screen; a FaceTime call.

Despite the worries of the goodbyes, Louis was already looking forward to getting back home, and smothering his younger siblings with all of the love he hadn't been able to give them for so long. He had missed two of his little sisters' birthdays while he was away and he was more than ready to make up for that!

Family time for Louis was very long overdue.

"You two are going to be right terrors," Louis sighed, but his voice was laced with humour. "I'm going to want regular FaceTime calls from you both so I know you're not completely - " Whatever Louis was about to say next was lost in a burst of curse words as the small of his back suddenly and inexplicably exploded in pain. The earlier déjà vu returning in a cruel twist. “ _ Jesus fucking Christ! _ ”

~~~

**Ten minutes earlier**

How Nick found himself back at Stripster, he did not know. His friends were the absolute worst influence on him, and he needed to find new ones immediately.

Nick had been working on the breakfast show for a whole week, and it was really going great, better than Nick could have ever hoped for, truthfully - and besides a few negative comments that he he had quickly learned to block out, everyone had been very lovely and supportive about Nick's presenting. The one big downside to the new lifestyle change was that it was completely messing with Nick's body clock, especially on weeknights where he had gotten used to being such a night owl during his short break; which, thanks once again to Stripster for that one.

His friends had begged and begged for him to come out with them, though, and Nick had compromised with it being a Saturday night, rather than a Friday night like they had originally wanted. That way Nick knew he had all of Sunday to sleep if he wanted to. Saturday was his day for himself, Saturday night was given over to another night of clubbing, but Sunday would be for sleeping. End of.

Plus, once Nick was actually out and about, he didn't resent his friends for dragging him along quite so much. He really was growing to love this club; just like his friends had told him all along he would do. They had managed to secure their usual booth that night, and the fact the three of them even  _ had  _ a usual booth at a strip club was a little strange, but again, Nick had grown to love it.

He was very fond of the clubs' workers, too. Some more than others.

"We have the lovely Harry now, ladies and gentlemen!" Liam announced into the microphone from his spot on the stage. "Be nice to Harry!"

Liam grinned off stage. Nick presumed that the grin was directed at Harry, waiting at the bottom of the steps to the stage, and that was confirmed a few short seconds later as the current song playing transitioned into a Love Me Like You Do remix and Harry bounded up onto the stage to sudden and instant cheers and shouts from the crowd. Harry was wearing tight black jeans and a black t-shirt, a completely unremarkable outfit that somehow still managed to look amazing on him.

" _What are you waiting for?"_ Harry mimed along to the track - or possibly sang, Nick wasn’t sure - arms thrown wide, before he tipped his head back, dramatically, his body moving a little.

He slowly raised one hand up above his head as the beat picked up, his body moving perfectly in time with the track. He smiled out at the audience, eyes twinkling under the lights to mime another _'_ _ what are you waiting for' _ . Nick wondered if Harry could see him, but his booth was quite a way away from the stage, and Nick was pretty sure it would be too dark for Harry to see.

As the first verse joined the track, Harry snagged the bottom of his t-shirt, pulling it up enough to show off his stomach, stark black tattoos obvious on his hips as he continued to shimmy them, one hand running through his hair. He held the top up for a few beats and then let it fall, brushing a hand slowly down his stomach, lower and lower, down towards his crotch before whipping his hand away when he was just about to make contact.

_"_ _Never knew that it could mean so much, so much,"_  Harry mimed along with the track as he bent forward a little towards the audience, sending a wink to someone near the stage.

He strutted up to a different part of the stage, facing side on to slowly bend over when he reached the other edge, keeping his legs straight, his ass sticking out. He then quickly dropped down to the floor, his legs bending and his ass nearly touching the stage, bouncing twice, before he rolled his body back up so he was stood straight again.

_"L_ _et me take you past our satellites_ , _"_ Harry mouthed as he faced the audience straight on, his arms twisting in the air above him, and his body continuing to gyrate.

He caught eye contact with someone near the stage and continued to hold their gaze as he turned so his back was facing the audience. He smirked before turning away completely, bum wiggling to the music, hands up in the air, showing off his truly gorgeous figure.

He slowly bent down, hips still moving and then straightened back up, still shimmying to the music.

He turned to face the audience again, running both hands down his torso, to mime _'to_ _ uch me like you do, t-t-touch me like you do _ , _'_.

As the track reached its dramatic crescendo up to the drop, Harry's body kept in perfect rhythm with the song and he mimed another dramatic _'w_ _ hat are you waiting for?' _

He absolutely looked incredible, Nick was a little bit in awe. Harry was a genuinely good dancer, like a born performer, and it was all going so well -

But then, as the beat dropped, Harry dropped with it.

It looked as though his ankle rolled underneath him, and he crashed down to the floor of the stage. Nick could hear the thud even from where he was, and Harry's pained shout that followed, but he didn't need to be able to see or hear anything to know what had happened because a millisecond later the small of his back exploded in a white hot pain, and Nick jerked in his seat, tears instantly springing to his eyes.

"Fuck!" Nick couldn't help the expletives that escaped his lips. "Shit, shit. Fuck. Shit."

"Nick?" he vaguely registered Pixie shouting, voice laced with concern. "Nick, are you okay? Can you hear me? Nick? Fuck, Nick!" but Nick could only whimper, the pain taking over his body.

Pixie and Henry crowded in on either side of him, and he tore his gaze up to the stage again, attempting to make out what was going on through his tear-filled eyes, trying to make sense of what was happening through the haze in his brain of pure pain.

"Nick, do we need to call an ambulance? What's happening? Nick!" Henry was shouting now, and Nick had the presence of mind to shake his head. "What's going on?"

Nick only shook his head again in response, any words would have been useless by that point anyway because on the stage, Harry was being carefully helped up to his feet by one of the security guards, and the movement was causing Nick's pain to grow more and more intense.

"Fuck," Nick hissed, and he could just about make out Harry hobbling off of the stage.

Thinking as quickly as he could through the pain in his back, he knew what he needed to do.

He started to try to push himself up to his feet - Harry was walking, so Nick knew that he would definitely be physically able to - but Henry put a hand on his waist, trying to stop him.

"No!" Nick said, eyes not leaving Harry's hunched figure. "I need to - get off me!" he snapped at Henry, who let go of him instantly, looking justifiably confused.

"What the fuck is going on?" Henry enquired, and Nick was growing frustrated.

"Pix," he said quickly, turning to face her instead. "You were right, okay? It's him. He's my - person, whatever. I need to go and -  _ fuck! _ "  Nick had to break off from speaking as another fresh wave of pain rolled down his back, almost sending him falling to the ground.

Luckily, he didn't need to be any more lucid than that, because Pixie's eyes widened before he could even finish speaking. "Shit, are you - ? Oh my god, well of course you're sure. Here, let me help you."

She jumped up and supported Nick, the same way Harry was currently being supported across the club.

"We have to be quick," Nick said urgently, speaking through gritted teeth. "He's going to go into the staff room."

"I think they'll make an exception for you, babe, don't worry," Pixie reassured, and as they walked away Nick heard Henry sigh exasperatedly. Nick would have to get Pixie to explain everything to Henry later on.

For now, he was a little pre-occupied with the agonizing pain still torturing his back, and focusing on somehow walking across the club.

He leaned heavily on Pixie for support, but she didn't protest, continuing to manoeuvre Nick across the packed floor.

"Harry!" she suddenly called, making Nick jump. "Excuse me. Harry!"

Nick looked up to see that there was someone else supporting Harry now, the security guard standing by, and they had pushed the staff door open and was ushering Harry through, which was the reason for Pixie's shouting.

Harry didn't turn around but the person supporting him did, and Nick recognised him as being Liam, who Nick had met a few times in passing before.

Liam's expression didn't show any signs of recognition though, his face twisted into concern more than anything else. Nick didn't flatter himself by thinking the concern was directed at him.

"Sorry, babe, he's not available at the moment," Liam said, as Pixie and Nick drew near, all standing in the doorway now.

Nick glanced inside and saw someone else helping Harry lower himself down onto a comfy looking sofa. Nick's back gave another twinge as Harry sat down, and he bit back a whimper at the same time Harry let out a short cry.

Liam's head immediately darted in Harry's direction at the noise.

"He's just had a bit of a fall, so he won't be performing anymore tonight," Liam said, turning back to face Pixie. He did look genuinely apologetic, even as he edged away from the two of them.

"No, please just wait," Pixie stopped him, and Liam paused again, looking back at Pixie a little impatiently. "Thank you. Look, there's, like, no easy way to explain this so I'm just going to be blunt about it. My mate here is Harry's soulmate. He's just felt Harry fall over, he's currently in a lot of pain, and he's felt Harry’s pains before, so we know that it's true. Please just let him in so he can talk to Harry."

Liam's eyes widened as Pixie spoke, and when she finished talking, his gaze slipped over to Nick's hunched form, his eyes searching.

"It's - uh - it's true," Nick said through tightly gritted teeth. "Can I just talk to him? Just for a minute."

"Um…" Liam hesitated. "Just give us a second, alright? Stay out here, yeah?"

Nick nodded jerkily.

"Thanks, man," Liam said, finally disappearing through the door and closing it firmly behind him.

Pixie shifted, supporting Nick's weight a little more comfortably, and Nick groaned, hand moving to cradle the small of his back carefully.

"Still hurting?" she enquired gently, speaking directly into Nick's ear. Nick just nodded pitifully and she tsked in sympathy.

They hadn't been waiting long, half leaning up against the wall by the staff room door, when the door opened, and Nick's heart skipped embarrassingly.

Liam was stood in the doorway, holding a packet of pills in his hand. "Sorry, I've not managed to speak to him yet. But - uh - I don't really know how the whole pain transfer thing works, but Harry's taken some painkillers and I didn't know if that would stop yours or not, so you can have these, if you want?" he explained, holding the pills out towards Nick.

Nick was genuinely a little touched by Liam's apparent concern, and took the pills from him. "Thank you so much, that's really nice of you."

"Of course," Liam replied, a small smile on his lips. "Let me just go and get you some water from the bar. You just stay here, don't worry about trying to walk anywhere."

"Thanks," Nick said again, looking down and fiddling with the pill packet.

Liam returned after a few seconds with a tall glass of ice water, and Nick took it gratefully, sipping at it before using it to swallow down a couple of pills. He handed the packet back to Liam when he was finished.

"I'll go and try to talk to him now, okay?" Liam said, with a look of sympathy at Nick. There was something else in his expression, something akin to awe. Nick supposed it was kind of a big deal. Who was he trying to kid? It was a  _ huge  _ fucking deal.

"Thank you," Nick repeated a little numbly, and distracted himself by sipping at the water as Liam disappeared back into the staff room.

The knowledge that Liam was currently discussing Nick with Harry inside that room made his stomach go all tense, like a knot had been tied uncomfortably tight inside him. At least it did the job of making him forget about the pain in his back for a little bit, even if only very briefly.

Nick was not prepared when the door to the staff room opened yet again, had gotten a little lost in his thoughts, imagining various scenarios of how everything was going to turn out from there on out. It took Pixie gently nudging him in the side a couple of times to make him realise that Liam was stood in front of him again, looking at him expectantly as though waiting for a response.

"Uh - " Nick said slowly. "Sorry, what?"

Liam let out a soft laugh. "No worries. I said, you can go into the staff room, if you like. Harry's pain medication has set in now so he's feeling a lot better. I haven't said much to him, just what you've told me; that you think you're his soulmate. I thought it would be fairer to leave the details down to you. Feel free to head in whenever you're ready."

Nick let out a long breath, his stomach twisting again. "Okay, thank you," he said, trying to appear nonchalant but probably failing miserably.

Liam patted him on the arm as he moved away, off into the crowd of people, presumably to get back to work, and Pixie hugged Nick to her side for a moment.

"God, this is  _ huge _ ," she breathed and Nick huffed out a laugh.

"Yeah, thanks, Pixie. I hadn't realised that," he said, voice heavy with sarcasm.

"Sorry, sorry. Go on, then. Get yourself in there." She stepped away so Nick could look her in the eye. "Hey, babe, you're going to be fine," she assured him. "This is a  _ good  _ thing, yeah? Harry's a good lad, you're wonderful, and this is all going to be absolutely perfect, yeah? You're alright."

Nick took in her little pep talk, thankful that someone was there to feed him positive thoughts to quell the panic in his mind at that moment.

He nodded jerkily. "Thank you. I'm… I guess I'm just going to go in there, then."

"I'll call you later, see how everything's gone," Pixie said, and with a pat to the back, she was gone, moving through the club to rejoin Henry. Part of Nick wished he could follow her, and forget the drama that his life was surely about to become.

He turned to face the staff door, breathing out a shaky 'fuck', before lightly tapping on the door. He waited but couldn't hear a response over the noise of the club, so slowly pushed the door open, very cautiously.

Nick stepped inside the room on shaky legs and his eyes fell on Harry immediately. He was still sat on the same sofa, a mug of something hot and steaming in his hands, and his gaze fixed evenly on Nick as he slowly approached. Nick couldn't read anything in Harry's expression, his face was perfectly blank as he watched Nick come closer to the sofa. Nick was almost intimidated, but forced himself to look back.

Harry shifted on the sofa as Nick drew level with it, and Nick's back twinged instantly. He gasped out, grabbing at the pained area with his hand, and he saw Harry's eyes widen in response.

Harry cleared his throat, gesturing at the empty spot on the sofa. "You - um - " he coughed. "You can sit down."

Nick put his now-empty glass down on the table in front of the sofa, and lowered himself onto the seat carefully, not wanting to harm his back any more. He sighed in relief as he relaxed into the back of the cosy sofa. He looked across at Harry when he was settled and saw that Harry was still watching him, that same unreadable expression lining his features.

Harry seemed to shake himself after a few moments of silence, finally looking away from Nick and down into the mug in his lap instead.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, barely audible. "This is - " he stopped talking abruptly, gaze still fixed downwards.

"I know," Nick said softly. "And  _ I'm  _ sorry."

Harry shook his head, and looked up again to meet Nick's eyes. "Did you - did you want a hot drink, or anything? Sorry, I should have offered already."

Nick almost laughed -  _ almost.  _ What kind of person was Harry that when faced with this sort of situation one of his first instincts was to offer Nick a drink? Not to start quizzing him or trying to make sense of what was going on, but to cater to Nick's thirst.

In all honesty, Nick could have really done with a hot drink at that moment, but he didn't want to distract from what they were actually there to talk about.

He met Harry's questioning gaze, and was surprised to see that there was a small smile tugging at the corner of Harry's lips. Nick tilted his head, in a silent question, and Harry's eyes sparkled for a moment before he inexplicably burst out laughing.

Nick watched in total confusion as Harry ducked his head down, giggles still bubbling from his lips as he shook his head, his face completely hidden by his curtain of long hair. Harry eventually seemed to get himself in check and glanced back up at Nick, his eyes still sparkling.

"You could cut the tension in here with a knife!" Harry exclaimed, before he started laughing again, slapping at his knee with his free hand.

Nick couldn't help the laughter that bubbled out of his own lips then. Suddenly, the whole situation was just so incredibly funny to him. He was sat in the staff room of a strip club, on a sofa with his soulmate, simply laughing. The two of them laughed until they had tears in their eyes, and then some, meeting each other's eyes every so often and renewing their laughter all over again.

They were interrupted after a while by a soft knock at a door Nick hadn't previously noticed and another man walked into the room. 

"Hey, babe," he said softly, and Harry turned to look at him.

"Ben!" Harry exclaimed, his voice still a little shaky with laughter as he carefully leaned forward to put his mug down on the table in front of them. "I am so sorry!"

"Oh, shut up," Ben protested before Harry could say anything else, approaching the sofa. "You have absolutely nothing to apologise for. I promise. How are you feeling, lovely?"

Harry pulled a face but didn't reply, and Ben made a sympathetic noise in response.

"You can just get yourself home if you want to, babe. Don't worry about going back out there," Ben said, and Harry turned so Nick could no longer see his face.

"Are you sure?" he asked, sounding unsure but Ben just nodded in reply.

"Of course, no worries. Get yourself well, love," he said, and leaned forward to pull Harry into a hug. He pressed a kiss to the top of Harry's head and Harry made a small noise which made Ben smile. "Go on, off with you, Haz. And _please_ take care of yourself."

Ben stepped back and nodded in acknowledgement towards Nick. Nick returned the gesture with a small smile.

"Thanks, Ben," Harry said softly.

He leaned back to watch as Ben retreated through the door again and then turned to face Nick. "Come on, then," he said. "Let's get out of here."

Harry began to rise up to his feet, jaw clenched against what Nick knew was the renewed pain in his back, because it was also currently rushing to Nick's own back.

"Jesus," Nick hissed, when Harry straightened up, and Harry's eyes shot over to him. "Go easy, yeah?"

Any trace of laughter had left Harry's face, and he looked completely serious again. "Sorry," he muttered, looking around the staff room and then heading over towards a bag that was lying on another chair.

He turned to face Nick once he'd hoisted the bag up onto his shoulder - another twinge of pain,  _ would this never stop? _

"Do you have everything you need on you?" Harry asked, his voice quiet as he looked back at Nick.

Nick patted his pocket, checking he had his phone, keys, and wallet, and after confirming that he did, nodded at Harry.

"Good. Um, can you stand okay?" Harry enquired.

"You managed it," Nick said. "So I assume so, hang on."

Harry stood watching a little awkwardly as Nick manoeuvred himself up to his feet. It was actually a lot less painful than Nick had been expecting it to be, but then Harry hadn't been moving at all so Nick guessed that made sense.

"God, it's so fucking weird how this all works, isn't it?" Nick said, as he walked over to Harry, still with very minimal pain.

Harry simply stared at him for a moment, before nodding slowly. "Yeah, it's a little strange," he agreed.

Nick reached around and prodded at his back, laughing when he felt absolutely no pain there. "It's really odd."

Harry was frowning now, and Nick didn't understand why. It  _ was  _ odd, Harry had just said so!

"Come on," was all Harry said after a moment. "We can go to this diner place I always go to. It's really quiet in there, so we can - um - talk."

"Sure, whatever you want," Nick said. "Lead the way."

~~~

As Harry walked along the street towards the diner, trying to keep his limping at a minimum, his mind raced at a million miles an hour.

This was not how he had expected to feel when he officially met his 'soulmate'. This was something Harry had been looking forward to for literally as long as he could remember, spending hours dreaming about the day he would meet his soulmate, how it would feel instantly right, how he would feel a sense of home.

He'd had that kind of notion when he'd realised that Louis was possibly his soulmate about a week ago, even though it had been slightly tainted by Louis' reaction, or Louis' complete denial to be more precise, really.

But then, maybe Harry really had been fabricating everything that night. Louis had seemed so sure that nothing had happened, despite his shiftiness, and why would he have lied? Surely, he would have jumped at the chance to meet his soulmate, just like Harry had. It was like a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Although at the same time, how could it have been that much of a coincidence that Harry had been hurting from the scene and Louis had also appeared to be in pain when Harry had arrived? How could Harry have imagined so vividly Louis' reaction in the diner the instant he had stabbed his hand? It just seemed like too big of a coincidence to Harry.

So, why was  _ Nick _ lying to him? Harry had to admit that Nick was a pretty good actor; he really pulled off being genuinely hurt convincingly, letting out these little noises beside Harry every time Harry's back twinged painfully. What would Nick gain from this?

Harry wasn't even sure that he entirely believed Nick was lying, though, which was the most confusing thing for him. Harry hadn't met Nick all that many times, but every time they had gotten the chance to have a conversation, Nick had seemed so lovely and genuine. He didn't seem like the type of person who would want to deceive someone like this. He'd never asked Harry for a private dance, never pressured him to do something he didn't want to do. Harry had never felt at all uncomfortable around him. But, unfortunately, that was changing.

The walk to the diner seemed to take twice as long that night; Harry's thoughts weighed him down mentally, while the pain slowed him down physically, but eventually they arrived. Harry sighed in relief as he pushed the door open, instantly greeted with the usual calming music.

The diner was a little busier than normal, but Harry quickly spotted a free table tucked away in one corner and, checking that Nick was following him, he made a beeline for it. He carefully lowered himself into the chair, trying to ignore Nick's wince across the table as he did so.

Once Nick was seated, and they were both settled, Harry decided to break the awkward silence they had fallen into since they'd left the club; apparently both lost deep in their thoughts.

Honestly, Harry had no idea how to begin to approach the subject he knew they needed to talk about, so he took the easier way out - the cowards' way out, maybe.

"Do you want to order anything?" he asked, cringing at how weakly his voice came out. He forced himself to speak a little more confidently as he continued. "Food, a hot drink, alcohol?"

Nick smiled, a small smile but it was there. "You've been taking tips from the waiters," he quipped, but the joke fell flat as Harry's mind instantly snapped to Louis. The smile dropped from Nick's lips, and Harry shook himself.

"Sorry, that was rude," Harry apologised, not wanting to offend Nick in any way. "I guess I have, yeah. Did you want anything, though? My treat."

"Just a cup of tea would be lovely, thank you," Nick said. "But you don't have to pay."

"It's no bother, honestly, I'll be right back." Harry pushed the chair back from the table and got back up to his feet again, ignoring Nick's protests, telling him that he should rest his back.

Of course Harry knew full well that a waiter would come over to their table at some point, but he just needed a minute to himself and that seemed like the perfect opportunity, so he slowly walked up to the practically empty bar.

He readied himself to see Louis, embarrassing butterflies starting up in his belly at the thought of it, but when he reached the bar, Louis was nowhere to be seen. At that moment in time, Harry really didn't know whether to feel relieved, or not.

The blond who had served Harry the last time he'd been in there, when Louis had been acting strangely, came over to him with a huge smile on his face.

"Hey, it's you! Welcome back!" he said, Irish accent broad and upbeat. Harry couldn't help smiling back.

"Hi! Indeed. I really love this place," Harry said, earnestly.

"Thank you! I love it, too, and I'm not just saying that because I'm paid to!" Niall laughed, and Harry grinned back at him.

His laughter was really infectious and Harry couldn't help giggling along with him, feeling like a weight was slowly being lifted. It wasn't all bad, he was going to be okay.

"What can I get for you?" Niall asked, smile still fixed on his face, but it didn't look like he was forcing it. Niall just seemed as though he was genuinely happy to be there doing what he was doing.

"A cup of tea, and a black coffee, please," Harry requested, and then hesitated briefly, eyeing the rows of alcohol behind Niall. "Um, and two shots of tequila. Thanks."

Niall beamed at Harry. "Sure, I'll just get those for you."

As Niall busied himself with the drinks, Harry risked a peek over at Nick, who was sitting side on. He appeared to be completely relaxed, but Harry didn't really know him that well to be able to tell how he was actually feeling.

Harry used the waiting time to try and mull over what he was going to say to Nick, but it wasn't something he'd thought he would need to rehearse, so he was a little bit lost, out of his depth.

"Here you are, mate." The sound of glasses hitting the counter dragged Harry out of his thoughts, and he realised he'd zoned out a little bit. He really hoped Nick hadn't noticed him staring straight at him for the past few minutes.

Harry finally tore his gaze away, and turned back to face Niall.

"Thanks very much," he said, already reaching for one of the shot glasses.

"No problem. That's £7.30, please," Niall said and Harry fished the money out of his wallet.

As soon as he had paid Niall, Harry sweeped up the shot glasses and downed them both covertly, leaving the empty glasses on the bar top before lifting up the mugs of hot drink to take over to their table.

His hands were shaking ever so slightly, and he hoped that wasn't obvious as he set the drinks down on the table and took his seat across from Nick, unable to stop the hiss that escaped him at the pain.

"You okay?" Nick asked, his voice tight, and Harry looked up at him.

"You didn’t feel that?" he questioned, sharply. The drink had given him the tiniest amount of liquid courage, and he was going to milk it for all he could.

Nick frowned. "I - I did feel it, yeah. I was just checking if you were okay."

Harry narrowed his eyes at Nick, watching him calculatingly. The small amount of alcohol in Harry's system was making Harry feel very clever, and he quickly formulated a plan, which he thought was absolutely genius.

"What did you feel exactly?" Harry enquired, feigning confusion.

"Um - my back?" Nick stuttered, and Harry tipped his head to the side, as though he was considering something.

"It's kind of funny how I didn't feel a thing," Harry said, his voice poisonous.

Nick looked a little taken aback, staring across the table at Harry for a moment. Harry raised his eyebrows at him, wondering what Nick's next response was going to be.

But Nick didn't seem scared, didn't look as though he'd been caught out or anything, simply reached for his drink and took a sip, regarding Harry calmly over the rim of the mug.

"Hopefully that means the painkillers you took are finally starting to kick in," Nick said once he'd placed his mug back down onto the table, Harry's eyes following the movement and then whipping back up to Nick's eyes. "That's a good thing, isn't it?" Nick pressed when Harry didn't say anything.

Harry just shrugged, picking up his own mug and taking a long sip, trying to calculate his next move.

"Harry," Nick said after a moment. "Isn't this, like, a good thing?"

Harry looked across at Nick and saw that he was looking down into his lap, his cheeks a little flushed. Harry frowned; he didn't want to _ upset  _ Nick, that really wasn't his intention.

"I don't know," Harry muttered, hiding the words in his mug, but Nick evidently heard them as his head snapped up. Harry's heart lurched uncomfortably when he saw that Nick had tears in his eyes. "I mean - "

"No, no. That's fine," Nick rushed out, his voice sounding a little forced. "Um - I guess it was kind of a long shot to think someone like you would want someone like me. I'll just finish this drink if that isn't massively awkward, and then I'll get out of your way. Sorry."

Nick didn't meet Harry's eyes the whole time he was speaking, so he didn't see how utterly baffled Harry was becoming by his words.

"I do - " Harry's voice came out hoarse, and he cleared his throat before continuing. "I do like you. That's not - that's not the problem, Nick."

Nick finally looked up at that, genuine confusion written all over his face, and Harry suddenly felt incredibly guilty.

"Then, what's wrong? Because you really don't seem like you're okay with any of this," Nick pointed out.

Harry opened his mouth to explain, but quickly shut it, re-evaluating. For some reason, he didn't want to tell Nick about Louis. It was probably a bit silly, but Harry just wanted to keep Louis and everything that had happened with Louis for himself. He didn't want to have to share that with anyone, and he hadn't so far, not even when his mum had quizzed him about why he'd sounded so off on the phone the other night. So he wasn't about to start with someone who he didn't even know if he could fully trust at that moment.

Harry shook his head, taking a long drink from his mug to stall for time, his mind racing as he tried to work out what to say.

As Harry lowered his glass to the table - still struggling to come up with something to tell Nick that didn't involve Louis in any way - his gaze fell on a fork resting on the tabletop and it was as though a light bulb switched on in his mind. Suddenly he knew exactly what to do. If it worked for Louis, it would work for Harry, surely?

In a moment of pure recklessness, Harry snatched the fork up before realising that it wouldn't be a very polite thing to do to stab someone he barely knew in the hand, so he froze, fork still in hand.

"What are you doing?" Nick asked, sounding justifiably weary.

Harry huffed a laugh, fiddling with the fork between his fingers, both of them jumping when the metal clattered against the table top.

"Okay, this is going to sound like a really strange request," Harry began. "Like, really strange, so please don't judge me." He looked up and saw that Nick was watching him steadily, expression unreadable. "There's no easy way to ask this, Nick, I'm not going to lie. Would you, you know - " Harry mimed stabbing the fork into his own hand, and Nick followed the movement, his brow furrowed.

"I don't know what you want," Nick said slowly.

Harry took a deep breath and held the fork out to Nick. "Can you, like, put that into your hand?"

Nick reached out and took the fork, watching Harry carefully. When he was holding it in his own hand, he raised an eyebrow at Harry in question, and Harry sighed.

"Will you stab your hand? So I can feel it," Harry rushed out, feeling his cheeks heat up in a blush at the ridiculous request.

Nick's expression fell instantly. He went from baffled to completely distraught in the blink of an eye, and Harry's heart started to pound in his rib cage. He had been right, Nick had been lying, and now he didn't know what to do to get himself out of it. Okay, that feeling in Harry's chest was  _ not  _ disappointment, of course it wasn't. He didn't need to be disappointed that Nick wasn't his soulmate, however irrationally sad he suddenly felt. He had Louis. Or he would have Louis.  _ Whatever _ .

Harry realised that Nick had been speaking while his thoughts had spiralled and blinked over at him. "Sorry?" Harry asked, voice faint.

"You don't believe me," Nick said, his voice shaking slightly. "You think I'm lying to you." It wasn't a question.

Harry swallowed hard, fighting down the emotions that were struggling to make an appearance.

"Oh my god," Nick muttered when Harry didn't deny anything, just remained silent.

"I'm - " Harry stopped. He couldn't bring himself to say sorry. He didn't feel like he had a need to apologise. "I just want to  _ know.  _ You know, this is a big thing, a  _ huge  _ thing, and like you're sure that it's me, but how can I know that it's you?" Harry tried to explain.

"I wouldn't  _ lie  _ about this," Nick choked out, doing a worse job at containing his emotions than Harry hoped he was doing. "God, Harry. How could you think that? I - I wouldn't  _ lie." _

Harry couldn't think of a response, couldn't reassure Nick that he believed him because at that moment he didn't, couldn't apologise for doubting because he still doubted. There was nothing Harry could say, no matter how hard he tried to come up with something. Words were failing him. He watched Nick run his free hand through his hair agitatedly, pulling at the ends, and could tell that Nick was fighting back tears, but still Harry couldn't think of anything to say.

"Fuck it," Nick muttered suddenly, and with no more warning than that he slammed the fork prongs down into the back of his hand, exactly as Harry had done to himself that night.

It was like time froze for a moment. Harry watched with wide eyes and bated breath as Nick dropped the fork to the table with a loud clatter, the hand he'd stabbed shaking visibly.

His eyes only widened impossibly more when a second later his own hand seized up with the sharp pain he had felt when he'd done that to himself.

His mouth dropped open and he yelped out, shaking the injured hand wildly, his chest heaving as he and Nick stared at each other across the table. 

As they looked at each other, both with wide eyes and heaving chests, a smile slowly - oh so slowly - broke out across both of their faces as though they were mirroring each other perfectly.

_ Just like that, _ Harry thought.  _ Wow. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that you can watch the trailer for this fic here if you want to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GcDf6r9fn3M (but be aware of minor spoilers if that would bother you!)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** Okay, this chapter actually includes what is possibly my favourite scene in this whole story! I don't think there are any warnings needed for this chapter, maybe slight negative comments about asexuality. But if you read them in context I don't think that they would be triggering (I'm ace and I'm not personally triggered by this, and I feel like what I've written about here is just what every ace person probably goes through at some point!) ***

"Alright, alright! That's enough!" Aiden gasped out across the field, and Louis laughed, dropping to the floor and panting with exhaustion. He shielded his eyes from the bright sunlight streaming down on him and wiped at his sweaty brow. There was very little in life that Louis loved more than a good game of football, and the knowledge that he'd worked himself hard in a game was totally addictive to Louis.

He had been living back in Doncaster for a little over a week and, quite honestly, he felt as though it was the greatest decision he'd ever made. He had limited money to bring back with him from London, thanks to the expensive rent he'd been paying on the flat, but any money he had brought with him, he'd passed straight on to his mum to help with payments for his little siblings. He had been working hard around the house; cleaning, cooking, doing laundry, taking care of the food shop, running the little ones to wherever they needed to go each day. He was thoroughly enjoying feeling useful and important and  _ needed  _ again.

His siblings had been so incredibly happy when they'd first laid eyes on Louis. He had surprised them by picking them up from their dad's the day he moved back home, and Louis could genuinely have cried at their reactions; he'd felt so loved and appreciated and wanted when the girls had screamed and ran at him, throwing their arms around him and holding him tight. Since then, they hadn't wanted to leave his side, and when they weren't out with their dad, or at a friend's house, that was exactly where they stayed. Louis was more than happy with that.

On any down time Louis found, though, he was straight outside, either in the garden or at a park, or - like he was right then - at the university where Aiden studied, playing football. He wasn't trying to kid himself any more that football was going to be his long term career - he realised that it had been a little bit of a child'd dream, a little naive - and possibly because of that little epiphany he was having more fun with football than he ever had before. He had really missed the adrenaline of a game, even one played amongst mates, while he'd been away; playing small one on one games with Niall during breaks at work really wasn't the same.

Multiple footsteps came jogging over to him, and Louis sat up, squinting as his friends bobbed down to his level, sprawling around him on the pitch. Louis flopped back down, breathing heavily.

"Good game!" Louis complimented. "Bloody good game!"

A wordless cheer sounded around him and he grinned, groping around for his water bottle and happily drinking the contents.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, just coming down from the game, but eventually they decided it was time to get a move on.

As the group was getting ready to leave the pitch to head back to their various homes, a shout caught their attention and they turned as one.

"Hey, lads! Sorry to bother you!" There was another guy jogging towards them, and they waited for him to catch up. "I couldn't help but notice your playing just there, and wondered if you could do me a huge huge huge favour."

"What favour is that?" Aiden asked good naturedly.

"I'm Connor, and I play for the local footie team here at our uni. We have a talent scout coming to watch us play next week, but we have no one to actually play against, and you can see how that would be kind of crucial. Would you guys mind stepping in?"

Before they could consult each other, Louis spoke up. "Yeah, man, we can do that. No problem, right, guys?" he looked around at his group of friends, and was met with slight confusion but no objections. "No problem," Louis concluded, looking back at him.

"Thank you so much. That is honestly a massive help. Just make sure you're all here at 1 o'clock on Monday, yeah? That would be great," Connor said, sounding genuinely grateful as he backed away down the pitch again to join his team.

Louis was more than okay with playing football as a hobby, but to play it knowing that he was helping someone out would feel like a huge achievement for him, and he didn't want to let this guy down.  He said as much to his group of friends, who were still watching him with slightly baffled expressions. 

"We're practising every day until Monday, okay, lads? We have to be our best!" Louis said, looking around the group.

"Well, not every day. We're not practising on Sunday, man!" Robert argued, and Louis rolled his eyes.

"Don't we have to play, like, deliberately badly anyway? To show off the other team?" Aiden questioned and Louis snorted.

"No, not at all! We have to bring our A game and really push them to show the talent scout that they can take on anything.  _ Obviously _ . But we are going to smash this!" Louis grinned. He really believed that.

Bring it on.

~~~

It had been a whole week since the slightly traumatic big reveal, and Nick and Harry had become pretty inseparable ever since.

If they weren't physically in each others' company - which was actually very rare - they were texting, or talking on the phone, or even indirectly tweeting each other, which had become quite a fun game.

Once they had both accepted what was clearly true in that diner, they had sat at that table and talked for hours and hours about absolutely anything that happened to pop into their heads.

Nick had never had such a long and in depth conversation with anyone before that night; not sober, at least.

They had even considered both going back to Harry's flat at the end of the night, because it turned out that Harry lived closer to the diner than Nick did, but they had decided against that in the end, making sure to exchange numbers before jumping into separate taxis. Although, that turned out to be a pointless effort, because once they were both back at their respective flats, what had started out with a simple text checking that they had both gotten home safely turned into the two of them staying up for a few more hours just texting each other back and forth, as if they had anything more they needed to say.

The very next day after The Big Reveal, Harry had texted Nick and asked what he was up to. When they realised they were both free, they'd decided to meet up to get some lunch, which Harry had insisted on paying for, and then did a spot of grocery shopping, which Harry had insisted on paying for.  _ To make up for last night!  _ Harry had repeated every time Nick had protested.

Nick had commented on how strange it was to see Harry wearing something other than black, having only ever seen him in his work uniform before. Of course, Harry still looked good. He almost looked more like himself; it was as though now Harry wasn't at work, his working mask had slipped away and he was just  _ Harry. _

They had stayed together for most of the night at Harry's flat, comfortably in each others' company. They spent the night talking, and watching various shows on television. They ordered in pizza and ate that while still curled up together on the sofa, and they had a couple of drinks between them. It had just been a really lovely and memorable night. Harry fell asleep towards the end of the night, and Nick found himself automatically reaching for his phone to Instagram a photo of him before realising that this was his  _ soulmate  _ here, and the protocol might be slightly different than if he was just with Pixie or any of his other friends, really. Nick didn't flatter himself by thinking that he was some super famous DJ, but he did have quite a fair few followers on Instagram, and he didn't particularly want to thrust poor Harry's face -  _ sleeping,  _ as well - out there to a load of strangers like that. Nick had eventually left Harry's flat at about 2 in the morning - after waking Harry up, of course; being left while sleeping was one of Nick's biggest fears so he always made sure to never do that to someone else, no matter who it was.

Nick's work had suffered the next day; his co-workers had all accused him of being horribly unprofessional, thinking that he had been irresponsible by having a big weekend out, and technically he really had. But the weekend they'd assumed he'd had was one that involved a lot of alcohol, not one that involved soulmates and a lot of conversing. It had taken a lot of effort for Nick not to spill all of the details on the radio that morning. He was constantly remembering little anecdotes that Harry had told him, or little details from the weekend, and instantly wanting to blurt them out on air. He had just about refrained from doing so though, only dropping Harry into the broadcast three times in total, each time just referring to him as his 'friend'.

As Nick left the radio station that day, he'd called Harry and discovered that Harry was still in bed but wanted Nick to come over, so he obliged. That night Harry had been let off work, because of his back, so he'd wanted some company. Nick had been briefly reacquainted with Liam, who had seemed so genuinely pleased that Nick was there. Nick wondered how much Harry had told Liam, whether he'd left out all of the gory details or not, but Liam had been whizzing around the flat getting ready for work, so Nick hadn't really had the chance to ask.

Liam had casually called Harry 'Styles' in passing, and Nick had instantly jumped on that information.  _ You sound like a rockstar!  _ Nick had exclaimed at the knowledge which had prompted the two of them to head out to a karaoke place later that night where they sung their hearts out - or at least their voices - until they both got too tired to possibly sing another note.

His work had slightly suffered the next day as well, mainly because he'd failed to set his alarm the night before, but of course his co-workers didn't believe that story, either. Obviously his slightly weakened voice didn't help his story much, so Nick couldn't blame them for doubting him.

Mentions of Harry on that morning's show: five. All as Nick's 'friend'.

After the show, Harry had invited Nick over  _ again, _ and after stopping off to get s ome food for the two of them, Nick headed off to Harry's flat. When Nick had arrived, Liam had answered the door, and told Nick that Harry was still in bed.

"Sorry!" Harry had shouted while Liam was still explaining this. "I'll just be a minute!"

Nick flopped down onto the sofa, and pulled his boots off, relaxing into the comfortable surroundings while he waited for Harry to emerge.

He had eventually done so, looking slightly sleep-rumpled, and dressed in a baggy white Rolling Stones t-shirt and dark blue jeans.

"This is definitely the most casual I've ever seen you," Nick had commented, and Harry had grinned lazily at him as he'd dropped down onto the sofa, slinging his legs comfortably over Nick's lap like this was a usual occurrence.

They'd spent the entirety of Tuesday together, chatting, and eating, and watching television. Liam had left a few hours in to go to work, and Harry was also due to go back to work that night to start making up for lost time. Harry started feeling a bit nervous about work the nearer it got, so Nick offered to go in with him, and had spent the night sat at the bar, chatting to Harry whenever he got the chance to.

It had been so late when Harry had finished his shift, and Harry was feeling really tired, so they'd just got a taxi back together and ended up at Nick's flat.

Nick had offered for Harry to share his bed with him, but Harry had declined, and when Nick offered for Harry to have the bed to himself, he had outright refused. 

So Harry had fallen asleep curled up on the sofa, and the next day had gone about his normal routine, returning to Nick's flat; and Nick's sofa at the end of the night.

The same thing had happened every night since, and Nick was quickly growing used to basically sharing his flat with the lad. It just felt comfortable; it felt right.

So that brought them to where they were now. Harry was currently asleep on the sofa in the living room while Nick was sat up in bed, scratching Pig behind the ears, halfheartedly scrolling through his phone with his free hand, and wondering how early was too early to wake Harry up on a Sunday morning. Nick's body clock had finally twigged that he had to wake up early for work, but unfortunately that had falsely translated to being something he needed to do every single day, so he was always up this early on weekends. Normally that was fine, and he was content to just lie in bed for hours, feeling lucky that he didn't have to drag himself across London to the studio, but now that he had Harry in the other room, he was all fidgety and just wanted to get out of bed and  _ do  _ something.

A glance at the time told Nick that it had just gone seven o'clock, far too early to wake Harry, he was sure, especially considering that Harry had only got in from work a few short hours ago. Harry was a bit of a night owl, he kind of had to be because of his job and his lifestyle and everything. It looked like Nick would just have to sit tight for a little bit longer.

He sighed, clicking through to the group chat.

**_Is anyone awake yet?_ ** He tapped out, not feeling particularly optimistic about getting a reply any time soon.  Nick was due to meet up with a group of his friends for a picnic in the local park later that day, but he highly doubted that any of said friends would be up getting ready just yet.

He idly scrolled through Instagram and was still waiting for a response half an hour later when he heard sounds of life from elsewhere in his apartment. Pig heard it too because she instantly jumped off the bed and stood on guard at Nick’s bedroom door, her ears pricked. Nick paused, listening intently, and heard definite movements from outside his bedroom. He pushed himself up in bed and ruffled his hair vainly, before coughing to subtly let Harry know that he was awake.

A moment later, Nick heard footsteps padding towards his bedroom door, causing Pig to start barking.

"Oh, stop!" Nick chastised. "Pig dog, you're not tough!"

He heard Harry laughing from outside and then a soft knock on the door. 

"Yeah, come in," Nick called, and the door clicked open, Harry's sleepy face appearing in the door crack.

"Is it alright to let her out?" He asked, and Nick noted that his 'just-woken-up' voice was raspy and even deeper than his usual speaking voice.

"Yeah, no problem," Nick said, and the door opened fully to reveal a topless Harry dressed just in his pants. Nick coughed, rubbing at his eyes. "Did you - uh - did you sleep okay?"

Harry leaned up against the door frame, and hid a yawn in the back of his hand. "Mmm, yeah, I did. I told you, your sofa is actually surprisingly comfy!"

"You're not the first person to say that!" Nick laughed. "Good, glad you slept well."

Harry nodded. "I really did. Thank you for letting me stay here again."

"Any time, really," Nick assured him, meaning every word.

Nick let his eyes travel up and down Harry's lean and pretty damn near perfect body. The tattoos that Nick had previously only seen through the sheer shirts Harry seemed to favour so much were now entirely on display, dotted along his torso and down his arms at seemingly random places. Nick tried to remember if he had felt Harry's pain when he got those tattoos, and figured he must have done seeing as you had to be eighteen or over to actually get tattooed. He'd have to remember to ask Harry about that one day.

Harry was so comfortable in his own skin, and Nick was slightly envious of that. Nick, himself, would never consider wandering half naked around someone else's house, would be far too self-conscious, but Harry clearly had no such worries.

Nick's phone finally buzzed in his hand, and he glanced down at it to see a new message from Aimee, telling him that yes she was up, and checking if they were still on for the park.

After a moment's deliberation, Nick looked back up at Harry, who was already looking over at him. "Did you have any plans for today?" Nick asked, casually.

Harry thought for a minute, stretching against the wall. Nick had to snap his gaze away, back to his phone. He took the chance to tap out a confirmation to Aimee, and noticed that Pixie had also replied saying that she was looking forward to it.

"I have to go into work tonight for a couple of hours extra, but until seven I don't think anything's happening, no," Harry answered. "Why?"

**_Can I bring company?_ ** Nick tapped out into the group chat while Harry was talking. 

Aimee responded first, saying,  _ of course! The more the merrier _ . But Pixie's reply came through a few seconds later, simply saying.  _ Harry??? _

Nick groaned.

"Something wrong?" Harry questioned, and Nick looked up at him quickly, feeling his phone buzz again in his hand.

"No, no, nothing's wrong. Sorry, that was so rude!" Nick apologised.

"It's fine," Harry laughed. "Was there a particular reason you asked about plans?"

"Um - yeah." Nick glanced down at his phone and nearly groaned again as he saw that Pixie and Aimee were currently having a conversation all about Harry. "How would you fancy meeting my friends today?"

Harry's lips curled up in a smile. "Getting serious, are we?" His tone was teasing, and Nick rolled his eyes in response.

"I'm not asking you to meet my parents, Harold."

Harry laughed, tipping his head back and exposing his throat, only drawing attention to the fact that he was still half naked in Nick's bedroom.

"So, yes or no?" Nick prompted to distract himself from how much he suddenly wanted to kiss and bite at Harry's neck, and Harry scratched idly at his bare arm, not a care in the world.

"Yeah, why not?" Harry shrugged, easy as that. "Would you mind if I took a quick shower?"

_ So casual. Did nothing phase this boy? _

"No, course not. You know where it is," Nick said, gesturing to the en-suite door.

He turned his attention back to his phone again, and skimmed through the messages he'd missed.

_ Great,  _ it turned out Pixie had decided she would be the one to tell the entire group chat about Harry. Of course, why should it have been left to Nick to tell all of his friends about his  _ fucking soulmate? _

He let them all know that Harry was, indeed, going to be there later, and the group chat exploded again. He sighed and forced himself out of bed to start getting ready, listening to Harry's shower sounds in the bathroom.

The two of them eventually got ready and left the flat to head to the park. It had felt so comfortable, and almost domestic, to be getting ready to start the day with someone by his side. The rest of the time Harry had been staying with Nick, Nick had either left early in the morning to do the breakfast show, and so had gotten ready on his own, or - in yesterday's case - they hadn't really bothered getting 'ready' at all, lounging around in their sleepwear for most of the day until Harry had to get up for work. Nick felt as though he could easily get used to having Harry there all the time. He was probably getting ahead of himself there, though.

Nick drove them to the park, both of them chatting and singing along to the radio the whole time, and Nick almost hadn't wanted to leave the car to go and join his other friends. He was more than content to spend his time in Harry's company alone, and he didn't want to think too highly of himself, but he thought that Harry might have been happy with the same.

After talking for a little while longer while the car was parked, Harry's head resting comfortably on Nick's shoulder as they looked out across the green, eventually, the two of them left the car and headed through the park to find Nick's friends. Nick had felt a little guilty for throwing Harry into the deep end the way he did, not introducing Harry to one friend at a time, but overwhelming him slightly with all of his closest friends at once, but Harry hadn't seemed to mind at all.

When they'd arrived, it had just been Gillian and her boyfriend, and of course, Pixie who had been there to greet them. They were still waiting on Henry and his boyfriend, and Aimee and her boyfriend to get there.

Harry had been so open and friendly and generally lovely from the beginning, and Nick could practically see the hearts in everyone's eyes as they hugged and air kissed and exclaimed over how exciting it was to meet a real life soulmate.  _ Yours is right next to you,  _ Nick had rolled his eyes at Gillian who had shrugged, unapologetic, as she continued to hug Harry tight, a huge smile on her face.

When Aimee and her boyfriend had arrived a few minutes after Nick and Harry, it had been the exact same story; hugs and air kisses and open easy conversation all round. Nick took a bit of a back seat, happy to sit back and just watch what was going on, and he felt a strange sense of pride seeing Harry interact with his close friend group so easily.

Nick had noticed a slight unexplained shift in Harry's demeanour when Henry and his boyfriend turned up, though. Harry wasn't rude or anything, he'd just seemed a little bit quieter, a bit uncertain, maybe. But Harry hadn't outright said anything to Nick, and Nick knew that Henry could be a pretty full on person, so had chosen not to question it at the time.

Nick was in the middle of a very important conversation with Aimee on the importance of celebrity's social medias - following Nick instagramming a photo of their picnic; he wasn't big-headed or anything, he swore! - when he noticed that Harry had completely tensed right up at his side. Nick broke off what he was saying mid sentence and turned to look at Harry, to see what was bothering him. He saw that Henry had placed his hand on Harry's thigh, quite inappropriately high up, and was speaking to him in a low voice, his face close to Harry's. Harry was cringing away, into Nick's side, and just looked generally downright uncomfortable with the situation.

"What's going on?" Nick asked, sharply, and Harry's eyes flashed up to Nick's face. Nick was shocked to see what looked like genuine fear in Harry's expression. "Are you okay?" he asked, much softer, for Harry's ears only.

"Nothing," Henry replied. "Just having a little chat with young Harry here."

Nick frowned and looked down pointedly at Henry's hand, which he had failed to remove from Harry's leg.

"Are you okay?" Nick repeated to Harry, and Harry nodded his head minutely, but he didn't seem at all okay. Nick tried to have a silent conversation with Henry's boyfriend, begging him to take Henry's attention elsewhere, but he didn't seem to pick up on it.

Luckily, Pixie had also noticed the whole thing, and jumped to her feet.

"Does anyone want ice cream? What do you all want?" she asked loudly, her voice carrying.

Everyone requested their choices and Pixie began to walk away before turning back to face the group again. "Hen, could you come and help me get them? I don't have enough hands for all this lot."

Henry finally looked away from Harry to glance up at Pixie. "Yeah, sure." He leaned in close to Harry again, and Nick's heart skipped a beat when Harry visibly flinched. "What are you having, babe?"

"He's already answered, Henry. I think Pixie was listening," Nick said slowly, a dangerous edge to his voice.

Henry's eyes narrowed, and Nick smiled sweetly in response, pulling Harry in close to his side, where Harry instantly rested his head down on Nick's shoulder.

"There's a good lad," Nick murmured, as Henry finally walked away with Pixie.

Nick didn't want to start any conflict there in the park, so he made himself a note to ask Harry what that was all about later.

For now, he was determined to enjoy the sun and the company, and to make Harry feel as comfortable and safe and cared for as he possibly could.

~~~

When Harry had seen the pushy guy - Henry, he reminded himself, he had a name- walking over to them in the park, he had felt himself tense up straight away. Of course he'd recognised him immediately; Harry was pretty good at never forgetting a face, even though he saw so many in a day - or in a night, really.

He had kind of hoped that Henry wouldn't recognise him, and had tried to be his usual polite self, but the look Henry had given him had told him instantly that this wasn't the case.

It had started off absolutely fine; Harry had mainly been talking to Nick, anyway. But it seemed like the moment Nick got distracted, Henry was ready and waiting, and pounced instantly.

It really wasn't as dramatic as that, but for Harry in that moment it kind of felt like it. There was suddenly an unwanted and uninvited hand clamped heavily onto his leg, and hot breath against his face as Henry spoke to him about his job, seemingly innocent questions that Harry just knew had a deeper more derogatory meaning. The last straw had been when Henry had enquired as to whether Harry was there with Nick to try and make himself a little more money, and Harry had felt embarrassing tears springing to his eyes at the shock of the statement.

Apparently, he had been subconsciously burrowing into Nick's side, because Nick had turned to face him and was suddenly taking the heat off of him again, which Harry could not have been more grateful for.

It had taken him a while to fully relax again, especially once Henry had returned with their ice creams and sat a little too close for comfort to Harry. But things had gone pretty smoothly after that, although Harry could tell that Nick was desperate to ask what that had all been about. 

Harry had been able to evade the topic for the entire rest of the day, which he was feeling pretty proud about. He'd even managed to distract Nick completely and thoroughly for a good long time by requesting that Nick cooked a meal for him while he got himself ready for work, which Nick agreed to do begrudgingly. Nick's cooking skills were not the best, so luckily for Harry the whole process of preparing and eventually eating the meal had taken them up to about half an hour before Harry had to leave for work to do his last extra shift to make up the hours he'd been off work with his bad back.

Once they had finished eating - finally - Harry decided to push his luck a little, and went ahead and introduced Nick to his mum via FaceTime on a bit of a whim. The call had actually turned out to be such a good idea, whether the reasons for the call were pure or not, because once they had gotten over the slight awkwardness, and of course the complete shock from Harry's mum, the two of them had actually gotten on really well, which Harry was a little surprised about, but certainly wasn't going to complain.

By the time they had wrapped up the FaceTime call, it was just about time for Harry to leave for work - not that he'd timed that on purpose or anything - and Nick had been kind enough to give him a lift in. Although Nick hadn't stayed for the whole night, when he had left, he'd seeked Harry out and promised that he'd come to pick him up again at the end of his shift. Harry had also told Nick he wanted to go back to his own flat that night, originally intending to go back alone to avoid the inevitable conversation with Nick. But then he'd realised he didn't  _ actually  _ want to be without Nick for the night and he had invited Nick over.

So, Harry knew that once his shift was over - in only twenty minutes - they would probably need to have that conversation, but his night at work had actually kind of calmed him down a little bit, and he felt as though he was ready to take on that topic. The three or four shots he'd managed to get out of Liam on the bar had maybe contributed to that bravery, but that was fine. Maybe he'd get Nick to have some as well when he turned up. Solid plan, that.

Ten minutes later Harry had just finished performing an impromptu dance with Jamie to I Wanna Dance With Somebody, which had been ridiculously good fun,  _ and  _ he'd managed to make £15 in tips.  He jumped off the stage, a little sweaty, and his chest heaving, to find Nick stood right there staring at him as he leaned up against the wall outside the staff room.

"Hi!" Harry breathed, pushing the notes into his jeans pocket. "When did you get here?"

"Around the time you pulled that guy's shirt off," Nick replied, his eyes gleaming.

"Jealous?" Harry teased, pushing the staff room door open. "You can come in here, by the way."

Harry moved over to the full length mirror at the other end of the room and grabbed a towel to wipe at the sweat on his face and neck. He saw Nick in the mirror behind him, watched him flop down onto the sofa, slinging his legs up to lie across it.

"What's this?" Harry giggled, turning to face him. "'Draw me like one of your French girls'?"

"Oh, please," Nick snorted. "You had a good night, babe?"

Harry picked up a bottle of water and uncapped it, swigging it down; his mouth always got incredibly dry after performing, every time without fail.

"I did. A very good night, actually," Harry replied, tossing the bottle in the direction of his bag. "I made £23 in tips!"

"Ooh, good for you! Dinner's on you tonight, then."

Harry smiled, his back to Nick as he bent to collect his things.

"Did you actually want dinner?" Harry asked. "We can stop off somewhere, if you want, I don't mind."

"Nah, you're alright, Harold," Nick sighed, and Harry turned to see him stretching out on the sofa, his eyes closed.

"You comfy there? Just want to spend the night here instead of coming back to mine?"

Nick's eyes opened, a smile on his face. "Nope. Are you ready to go, then?"

"I'm ready," Harry said, tugging on his gold jacket and pulling it tight around himself. "Shall we?"

He held out his arm for Nick to take, and they made the way out into the alleyway through the staff exit.

As Nick drove, the two of them listened to a selection of acoustic covers. Nick had tried to play some more dancey-type music, but Harry was so sick of that style after solid hours hearing nothing but, so he didn't leave room for argument when he flipped through until he managed to find something else.

Harry was nearly asleep when they arrived back at his flat, and Nick had to shake him gently to let him know they were there.

"Need me to carry you?" Nick asked, a teasing tone to his voice, and Harry shook his head sleepily.

"Just give me a minute," he'd murmured.

He had staggered inside, Nick following close behind, probably concerned that Harry was going to keel over or something. Harry was always so tired after work, it was like all the adrenaline and energy he'd had to save for his shift just dissipated the further away he got from the club, and by the time he got home, he was ready to just fall asleep instantly; especially now that he was back at his own flat, in his own surroundings after so long.

"Did you want anything to drink?" Harry asked as they made their way through the quiet flat. "Anything to eat?"

"No, I'm good. Do you want me to make you something, though, babe?"

Harry shook his head. "I just want to go to bed. Besides I'm still full from the pie!" Harry giggled loudly.

Nick huffed a laugh in return. "I'm glad. So, where am I sleeping?"

"In my bed," Harry replied, not having to think twice.

"Are you sure?"

Harry nodded. "If you're comfortable with that, of course. Bit more privacy for you than if you slept on the sofa."

It was true, Harry's flat was very open plan; the two bedrooms and the bathroom being the only closed off rooms. Liam and Harry had grown used to that, but Harry knew that guests preferred to sleep in one of the bedrooms if given a choice.

"Yeah, that's fine with me. Come on, then, let's get you into bed. You look like you're practically asleep already!" Nick said, ushering Harry through the flat.

"Mmm, I think I am!" Harry giggled. "Am I sleepwalking?"

"Possibly," Nick said, a laugh in his voice.

"Shh!" Harry scolded. "Liam's probably sleeping!" His act didn't last long because two seconds later he burst out laughing, stuffing his hand over his mouth to muffle the noise.

Nick shook his head, smiling. "Get into bed, you, go on. I'm going to go and use the loo quickly, okay?"

Harry grinned at Nick and slipped his jeans off before climbing under his duvet and snuggling down. 

He was just slipping into sleep when he felt the bed dip beside him, and a warmth join him between the sheets.

"Night night," Harry whispered, his eyes still closed.

"Night, babe," came Nick's soft reply. "Sweet dreams."

Harry woke up after what only felt like a short nap to the sound of quiet movements around the room. 

"Nick?" Harry mumbled, voice thick and distorted with sleep. "S'that you?"

"Yeah, babe. Shh. It's really early," Nick whispered. "I've got to get off to work. I'll come back here after, okay?"

Harry smiled into his pillow. "'Kay. Have fun at work."

Nick snorted a laugh. "Thanks, Harold. Have fun sleeping."

Harry's smile widened, and he giggled when he felt a finger poke at his dimple. "Hey!"

"Sorry, babe. I'll see you in a bit."

He heard a quiet 'bye' and then his bedroom door clicked shut, and everything went silent again. Harry burrowed further under his duvet and allowed sleep to envelop him once more.

The next time Harry was dragged out of sleep was when he became aware of a ridiculous amount of light shining in his face.

He groaned and squinted upward to see that he had forgotten to pull the curtain across the night before - and apparently Nick hadn't thought to do that, either - and so the harsh morning sunlight was now streaming into his bedroom.

Harry rubbed his forearm over his eyes as he stretched his body. He knew there was no way he'd be getting back to sleep now, and truthfully he didn't particularly even want to. Despite his night owl lifestyle caused by his job, Harry loved waking up as early as possible in the morning and being able to make the most of a day, even if he had no plans during the day, until having to go to work in the night time.

He groped around for his phone on his bedside table, finally snagging it between his fingers and clicking the screen on. The time read 7:15 and Harry unlocked his phone to check his messages.

He had a text from Ben telling him that he had failed to clock out the night before, and had also managed to leave all of his makeup behind in the staff room. Harry blamed Nick,  _ obviously,  _ and messaged Ben back to let him know he'd pick the makeup up the next night, and that he was sorry for not checking out. He knew Ben wouldn't really be cross with him, so he wasn't too worried about it.

Harry clicked through to Twitter and smiled to himself when he saw that the very first tweet on his timeline was from Nick, with a link to the radio show. Harry favourited the tweet and then clicked on the link. He was awake, anyway, he thought he may as well take the opportunity to listen to Nick's show. He made himself comfortable in bed, his phone on the pillow beside him.

Harry actually genuinely enjoyed Nick's show. Of course he had known how funny and engaging Nick was as a person; the two of them had spent so much time together recently, it was hard for him not to notice that. However, that didn’t mean that Nick's personality would automatically come across on the radio, but in Nick's case it really did, and it was just like Nick was back there in the room with him. Harry's stomach actually began to hurt from how much he laughed at Nick's little anecdotes. Nick even told the story about the spinach and feta pie from the day before, and Harry had found himself blushing a little, while still giggling at the way Nick told it.

When Nick texted him checking it was okay to go back to his, Harry simply sent him the thumbs up emoji and rolled over in bed. He was still in that comfortable curled up position when he heard the knock on the door.

"Harry!" Liam called out from somewhere in the flat.

"Yep!" Harry replied, making absolutely no effort to move.

He had a strange sense of deja vu when he heard Nick walking through the flat, but this time instead of telling him to wait, he called out for him.

There was a knock on the door a moment later and then Nick was back in Harry's bedroom. Harry grinned, holding out his arms for a cuddle, which Nick obliged.

"Mmm, you smell all outside-y," Harry murmured, burying his nose in Nick's cold jacket collar.

He heard Nick huff out a laugh above him, felt the breeze of it on his hair. "And  _ you  _ smell all insidey and sleepy, Harold. You lazy bugger!"

Harry giggled and rolled away. "I listened to the show!" he announced. "You told the pie story!"

Nick's eyebrows raised. "You listened?"

Harry nodded in confirmation, biting his lip bashfully.

"And what did you think?" Nick asked.

Harry snorted. "You're like a popular famous DJ, you don't need my assurance that you're doing a great job."

"It wouldn't hurt, though," Nick grinned, tossing his jacket off and lying down on top of the duvet.

Harry smiled, humming softly as he reached for Nick again, resting his head on his chest as a replacement pillow. "You did a great job. Honestly. You made me a laugh a lot, and your music choices were great."

"Thanks, Harold!" Nick giggled, and after a short pleasant pause, he spoke again, voice softer. "Had you ever listened to my show before - you know, before we met?"

Harry shook his head slowly, his hair rubbing up against Nick's shirt. "Nope. I'm not normally awake early enough, and when I am, I tend to go out walking or something. I'm sorry. I'll make sure to listen from now, though." He lifted his head to meet Nick's eyes, giving him a cheeky grin, which Nick returned.

"There's a good lad," Nick said, sincerely, and Harry laughed, rolling away so he was lying on his back next to Nick, both of them looking up at the ceiling.

"I feel bad, though," Harry confessed after a moment. "You'd been to my club before we, like, properly met. It's like you're one step ahead of me."

"It's not a competition, Harold."

"But you're winning," Harry pouted.

"Stop sulking," Nick scolded, poking Harry in the side and making him giggle. "I told you, my friends went on and on about Stripster, for actual months. It was bloody annoying, to be honest. I had to give in and see what all the fuss was about. And I'm really glad that I did."

"So soppy," Harry muttered, and Nick smacked at him in retaliation. "Hey! I like it. So, which friends were they?" he enquired, trying to sound casual. He'd decided that he was ready to have  _ that  _ conversation, and he was going to do it before he chickened out again.

Nick hummed. "Pixie and Henry, mainly. They're your biggest supporters, honestly."

Harry smiled softly, considering. "Henry asked me for a private dance once." He chanced a look up at Nick's face, and Nick nodded in response. "I said no, though. He remembered that; that's kind of what he was talking to me about yesterday."

"Did he make you feel uncomfortable?" Nick questioned, and Harry shrugged a little awkwardly. "Henry is very good at holding grudges, babe. Don't take it too personally."

"But he doesn't have anything to hold a grudge about," Harry said, taking a deep breath. "I never do private dances or private anything, really."

"Oh, well that's fair enough, babe."

Harry sighed. Nick clearly wasn't getting the importance of what Harry was trying to get around to, the weight behind his words. Harry knew that wasn't Nick's fault, that he couldn't read minds, but he wished that was the case, so he didn't have to come out to someone new. He trusted Nick implicitly, but Harry could never guess how someone would react to his sexuality, if they would even understand what it was. There was a niggling thought in the back of Harry's mind telling him that because Nick was his soulmate, he'd be _expecting_ sex, like that was the norm, and Harry knew that there was no way he'd be able to give it to him. This could be make or break.

He took another deep, slightly shaky breath.

"Hey, are you okay?" Nick asked, softly, a hand coming to rest gently on Harry's shoulder, and Harry nodded.

"I'm fine. There's something I should probably tell you, though."

He glanced up at Nick again, who was looking a little concerned, his brow furrowed. "Sure. Go on?"

"Well, there is actually a reason I don't do any privates or extras or anything at the club. And it's the same reason why I only recently started performing dances and stuff as well, and doing scenes, and - yeah. I'm...  I don't - " Harry stopped, frustrated with himself for fumbling his words.

"You're alright, babe. You can tell me anything, you know that, right, Haz?" Nick said, his thumb rubbing calm soothing circles into Harry's skin. "I'm not going to judge you. Nothing's going to make me think badly of you."

"Do you know what asexual means?" Harry asked, voice soft. He didn't lift his head that time; he couldn't quite meet Nick's eyes.

"Yeah, actually! I know that jellyfish can reproduce asexually as well as sexually," Nick stated, his voice perfectly serious.

Harry couldn't help himself from bursting into laughter, the tense moment completely blown away. "What the fuck?!" he exclaimed through giggles.

"Oi, what are you laughing at, Harold? That's a genuine true fact, that is!" Nick protested.

Harry let his giggles die down, shaking his head, and then decided to go for it. "Yeah, alright. It definitely doesn't just apply to jellyfish though. Because I'm asexual, too."

Harry was ashamed to notice that his hands were trembling slightly, only feeling more embarrassed when Nick's hand slipped down to hold one trembling hand in his. So much for playing it cool now that Nick had noticed his discomfort.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, willing away the tears he suddenly felt prickling at his eyes. "This is - "

"No, no, no. This isn't bad . Don't be worrying about anything, okay? I'm not sure I completely understand, though. And I'm pretty sure my comment seems kind of flippant now, so I apologise for that. Do you mind explaining to me what that means, babe?" Nick spoke soothingly, calming Harry down.  Although Harry’s heart was still beating wildly in his chest, and he was pretty sure his hands hadn’t quite stopped shaking.

Harry cleared his throat. "It's my sexual orientation, really. Like obviously there's the most well known ones, so straight, gay, bi, pan… Asexuality is another one of those orientations, and it means that while say a gay person is only attracted to the same gender, or bisexual is attracted to two genders, I'm not sexually attracted to any." Nick's thumb hadn't ceased its slow even movements on Harry's hand so he took that as a good sign to continue. "I mean, asexual is kind of an umbrella term and there's other identities within that, like there are aegosexuals, who have a kind of detachment from sexual desire and themselves, so they'd enjoy the idea of sex, but wouldn't imagine themselves in sexual situations. And there's demisexual, which is when someone needs to form a close emotional bond with someone before feeling any sexual attraction to them. And, like, I'm technically a panromantic asexual, so I could feel romantic attraction towards any gender, but I just would never want to do anything sexual with them, and I wouldn't find them sexually attractive.. And - uh - yeah, that's kind of it. It kind of took me a long time to come to terms with that, but I'm fully comfortable with who I am now, and yeah. That's me."

"Harry," Nick breathed, and pulled Harry in close to him in a tight hug, so Harry's face was buried in Nick's neck. "Thank you so much for telling me. You're really something, aren't you, babe?"

Harry smiled into Nick's neck. "You're, like, okay with that? You get that it means I won't want to have sex with you, yeah? I mean, I guess I  _ could,  _ like I'm not repulsed by it, most of the time anyway; I have my off days, but yeah. Like, if I did do anything to you I probably wouldn't want you to do anything back to me - and I might not get turned on by any of it, but if you'd want me to I - "

"Harry, love. Stop. Breathe," Nick interrupted, a big hand rubbing at the small of Harry's back comfortingly. "I'd only want you to do something like that, if  _ you  _ actually wanted to as well. I'm not really into the whole forced sex thing, you know. So if that day ever comes where you'd want to do that sort of thing, that's cool. If that day never comes, that's cool too. Honestly. I mean it. You don't need to worry about any of that with me, ever."

Harry let out the breath he'd been holding, sighing in relief against Nick's neck, which Nick evidently felt because he chuckled above him, running a hand through Harry's hair.

"Do you feel better now?" Nick enquired softly, and Harry nodded fervently. "Good. Why were you so scared, babe?"

Harry shrugged, pulling back a little to rest on the crook of Nick's shoulder. "I don't know. Romance and sex is so, like, intertwined in society and the media and everything. And with the whole soulmates thing, it just seems like you have to have both or you're not a real couple or something. And I  _ hate  _ that. I guess it was just sort of drummed into me that I'd have to have sex with my soulmate in the future. It was just  _ normal." _

"Harry, no," Nick said firmly. " _ You  _ are completely normal for not wanting that. Whatever your feelings are, whatever your desires are, those are yours, and they're perfectly fine and valid. And just because they might be different to other people's wants and desires, that does not mean that yours are wrong in any way."

"I needed someone like you in my life a long time ago," Harry sighed, feeling himself get a little choked up again but fighting hard to keep his emotions down. "I've only been told that before by people on the internet. Like, my friends never judged me for it, or whatever, but they never  _ got _ it. And my mum, like, she understands it? But she doesn’t  _ understand  _ it, you know? Like I'm pretty sure she thinks it's just a phase, sort of thing? Or like just a choice I made in the past, like I just chose to not have sex with anyone. She probably thinks that now I've met you everything's just going to change. I - um - I just don't want to feel like I'm _wrong_ anymore." Harry  felt his cheeks flush at the sudden unbidden memories that flooded his mind at the confession.

Nick's arm tightened around Harry's shoulders at his admission, and Harry heard a sharp intake of breath.

"Harry, babe, no. God, you never need to feel like that again, okay? I promise you there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. Not in the slightest. You are actually amazing. Who cares what your sexuality is, you know? It's no one's business but your own at the end of the day. It doesn't change who you are as a person. Anyone tries to give you shit about it, then there's something wrong with _ them.  _ Never ever think that who you are is not who you're supposed to be, okay? You're you and you're wonderful. Don't try and be someone else. Don't force anything, yeah?"

Harry looked up at Nick, his eyes swimming with un-shed tears, and without even second-guessing he surged upwards and kissed Nick firmly on the mouth.

"Harry!" Nick gasped, pulling back. "Wait. Are you sure you want - ? You - You're okay with kissing?"

Harry nodded, eyes trained on Nick's lips, and leaned in again. Nick kissed back that time, the most perfect pressure against Harry's own mouth. Harry melted into the sensation, feeling all of the tension and stress of the previous conversation float away.

They broke apart after a few moments to breathe, looking into each other's eyes.

"Harry. You just - We - " Nick stuttered.

Harry's eyes widened at the realisation of what they'd just done before a huge grin broke out across his face, mirrored instantly on Nick's.

"We just formed our bond," Harry whispered in awe, running a finger reverently over his own lips, and then Nick's. "We did it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that you can watch the trailer for this fic here if you want to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GcDf6r9fn3M (but be aware of minor spoilers if that would bother you!)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** Warnings for this chapter: There is self harm in this chapter, I wouldn't say it's explicitly talked about, definitely more implied than anything, and in quite a brief scene, but it's obvious what is going on, and there are mentions of (imagined) blood. (This is the only chapter this will be talked about in and although I did want the characters to have an in depth conversation about it, I really didn't want to drag this story-line on because I know it will be triggering to some people. So please just imagine that the characters all have an off-screen conversation at some point and make sure that everyone's okay etc!) Also minor warnings for confrontation and a brief description of a scene (spanking), and subspace. ***

"So, how is it without me, then? Is All Ours even still standing?" Louis laughed as he propped himself up on the wall outside his house; much quieter out there than it was inside. He only laughed harder at Niall's mock-offence. Even over FaceTime, Louis could still pull that reaction out of Niall. A great achievement.

"I was just saying to James that the place has never been busier," Niall snapped back. "It's so much cleaner, too, _and_ smells so much nicer!"

"Oi, you cheeky bugger!" Louis chided. "Honestly, you're not missing me? Not even a little bit?"

Niall sighed, long and drawn out as Louis fluttered his eyelashes at him.

"You miss me," Louis said in a sing-song voice. "Awww, Nialler, you're such a little cutie!"

"Shut up, Tommo!" Niall laughed. "You know, it's much easier now to end a conversation with you. One click of a button and I won't have to deal with you anymore!"

"Yeah, true," Louis allowed. "But then you'd only have to miss me even more!"

Niall groaned, and Louis grinned, ear to ear.

"Seriously, Nialler, how's it going?" Louis asked.

"Yeah, it's been alright. It is really strange not having you to keep me entertained during a shift though, and I genuinely mean that. Have you thought about when you're going to come back and visit yet?" Niall answered.

"Aww, Niall!" Louis replied, honestly a little touched at his friend's words. "I've only just left, I wasn't planning on coming back yet!"

"Well don't leave it too long! Or... I guess I could come up to Donny and see you there!" Niall offered. "Finally visit all the places you've told me about!"

"It's a date, Horan! Let me know when and you're welcome to come stay with me. You'll have to put up with my huge family, though!"

"No problem," Niall smiled, and then looked away from the screen. "Ah, damn it. I have to go in a minute, Tommo. I honestly wasn't lying when I said it had been busy lately!"

Louis' mind flashed unbidden to the image of curly hair, green eyes, dimples.

"Lou?" Niall said on the screen and Louis snapped back to it.

"Sorry, mate. I got too emotional at the thought of you leaving me again!" Louis winked at the camera as Niall cackled on the other side.

Louis was almost tempted to ask Niall if Harry was in there, but reminded himself that a big part of why he'd left London was to get away from that area of his life, so he stopped himself.

"Alright, mate, I'll let you get back to work! The people of London need their caffeine," Louis chirped.

"Let me know if you change your mind about coming to visit," Niall said, looking hopeful. "I'll give you all the free caffeine you want."

"Oh, you do spoil me, Nialler!"

"Anything for you, babe," Niall grinned and then quickly looked away from the screen again, shouting an, "alright, alright. I'm coming!", to whoever was stood there. After a quick, "talk to you soon, bye!" the FaceTime call disconnected and Louis was left looking down at the screen.

Truthfully, he had felt a strange pang of longing when he'd seen the oh so familiar staff room flash up on his phone, and obviously he missed Niall too. But a quick glance over his shoulder where he could see his entire family gathered together through the window immediately put an end to that.

He hurried back indoors without a second thought of London so he could go and get the hugs and love he wanted from the people that mattered the most.

~~~

When Nick had arrived at the club about an hour after Harry's shift had started, he'd seemed a little shifty from the beginning. He'd sat down at the bar and watched Harry intently as he'd served various customers behind the bar, and Harry was very suspicious.

By the time Harry's break came around, his mind had gone into overdrive, not having the opportunity to talk to Nick properly about what was going on. He'd barely even waited for the staff room door to shut behind the two of them before he turned on Nick.

"What's up with you?" he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Nothing," Nick replied instantly, wrapping his arms around Harry. Harry could smell the alcohol on his breath, but decided to let that slide seeing as he _had_ been sat in the same spot at the bar for a good few hours by that point. He even still had a glass in his hand which Harry realised might get him into trouble.

Harry pushed against Nick's chest until he could meet his eyes. "What's up with you?" he repeated firmly, hands flat on Nick’s chest. "You're being weird."

Nick scoffed. "Oh, thanks, love.  _'You're being weird'._ "

"You _are!"_  Harry said, turning away and scanning the room for his makeup bits and pieces. He'd done his makeup when he'd arrived at work that night and had left everything scattered around the room.

He felt Nick's eyes on him as he gathered his things together.

"Oh my god!" Harry finally exploded again. " _What?_ Seriously!"

Nick laughed. "It's nothing bad!"

"But there is something," Harry said, pointing his finger accusingly at Nick. "You lied."

"I didn't lie! Um, my parents are down in London for the weekend, and they'd really like to meet you," Nick confessed in a rush.

Harry's eyes widened. "In _person? What?_ Come on, Nick! I let you off with a FaceTime call!"

"I mean, you can FaceTime them from across London if you want to? But they're here in London, at my flat, so it might be nice for them to meet you in person, and vice versa," Nick explained.

"What, like, meeting them right now? _Tonight?"_ Harry questioned slowly, scanning his already slightly dishevelled appearance in the mirror; _and_ he still had a scene to perform before he could go home. He'd been looking forward to just falling into bed with Nick at the end of the night, hadn't factored in having to actually be sociable, or needing to look halfway decent.

"If that's okay with you. I mean, to be honest, they might be asleep by the time we get in? So in the morning possibly? But they might be up, I don't know!"

"Very helpful. Thanks, Nick," Harry said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Oi! I saw that," Nick complained, and Harry smiled despite the bad mood that had started bubbling away somewhere in his stomach.

"You've just sprung that on me out of nowhere," Harry muttered, leaning in closer to the mirror to reapply his eyeliner where it had smudged a little in the heat of the club.

He met Nick's eyes in the mirror as Nick came over to him. "What are you stressing for, babe?" he asked softly, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist from behind.

Harry swallowed, forcing himself to think before he spoke. "I don't know, it's a big step, isn't it? Everyone talks about meeting the parents. It's a scary thing."

"I know," Nick allowed. "But you're so bloody charming, Harold. They already love you."

"Well, that's big shoes to fill then, isn't it? Even more pressure!" Harry snapped, biting his lip as though he could physically stop himself from saying more.

"No! No pressure. Just be yourself, babe."

Harry rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything else. Nick stepped away, giving Harry his space again, but Harry was aware of Nick's eyes burning into his back as he finished re-applying his makeup.

A glance at the time told Harry that his break was nearly up, and a fresh bubble of irritation rose up inside him at that, knowing he'd spent his break without doing the things he really wanted to be doing. _Like possibly going back to the diner and seeing if Louis had made a reappearance yet,_ a quiet voice in Harry's mind pointed out, and he sighed. What a waste.

"We'll talk later," Harry finally said, with an air of finality as he began to sweep all of his makeup into his bag. "Got to get back to work, I'm doing a scene with Liam."

Harry was already at the door at this point and turned to look back over his shoulder at Nick, who was sipping leisurely at his drink as though he didn't have a care in the world. Well, _he_ hadn't just had a surprise parental visit thrust on him when he already had a busy and slightly stressful night ahead of him, so it was all perfectly alright for him, wasn't it?

"Don't make me late," Harry muttered, pushing the door open, the noise and music from the club pouring in. "Come on."

Nick smiled at Harry over his drink, a cheeky smile that normally would have had Harry's stomach fluttering, but right then just made him even more irate.

Harry pushed the door open fully and re-entered the club, holding it open for Nick with his hip as he surveyed the packed floor for Liam. He managed to catch his eye while Liam was talking to an older gentleman, and Liam signalled that he'd seen Harry. Nick had rejoined Harry's side, his glass now empty, and Harry leaned in to speak to him.

"Right, so I've got to rush off now, alright? I should be finished in an hour, then I've got another hour on floor and then I can leave. It's up to you what you do in the meantime."

Harry started to stalk off to the private rooms, but Nick's hand on his wrist stopped him. Nick moved his hand lower to join Harry's hand with his own, and Harry sighed but didn't object, walking across the room with Nick now in tow.

"So, I'm coming in yeah? Boyfriend benefits?" Nick asked when they'd entered the much quieter hallway of the private rooms and Harry frowned before letting out a small laugh.

"No, babe. It doesn't work like that here."

That should have been the end of it, but Nick apparently decided to push it.

"Well, can't you get me in, babe?" he asked, following Harry stubbornly down the corridor.

"No," Harry exclaimed, exasperated. "I can't. Unless you're willing to pay. I have to earn, Nick, this is my _job,_ yeah?"

"Oh, come on," Nick protested. "Just slip me in. You did it for us all the other night, so what's the problem?"

Harry felt his blood boiling, could feel the anger itching at his skin. It was true, he had recently gotten a private room set up for all of Nick's friends to hang out in for the night where they had spent the entire duration of Harry's shift being supplied with a nearly endless rota of drinks, and their own music choices. But what Nick didn't know was that Harry had actually paid for that room, he had simply chosen not to tell Nick that little detail.

"The problem is that this is my job, Nick. You shouldn't be trying to stop me from doing my job!" Harry argued, his voice rising. He heard it echo off of the walls of the quiet hallway as they reached the room he was to perform in.

"Maybe you shouldn't have invited me to come along if you can't actually spend time with me," Nick shouted, and Harry's eyes widened as he spun around to face him, stopping Nick in his tracks.

Harry's mouth gaped open as he stared at the man before him. What the fuck was his problem?

"Jesus Christ. Okay, well, I'm fucking sorry that I wanted my boyfriend to come along and _support_ me," Harry yelled. "How fucking selfish of me!"

Harry turned on his heel, and reached for the door handle but was stopped short by the next words Nick chose to say.

"Yes, Harry, you are my boyfriend. So if you're going to be in that room being all sexy, surely your boyfriend should be allowed to come in and watch, no?"

It was as though Harry actually felt his heart drop, and he froze for a moment. His stomach lurched, his eyes instantly went teary, and he had to fight hard to swallow all of that down as he whirled around to stare at the person he'd thought he could trust. Had he not listened to a single word Harry had said when they'd had their deep conversation before? How could Nick even think it would be okay to say that?

Harry turned around so quickly that Nick took an automatic startled step backwards, and another when he registered the look of sheer rage on Harry's face. Before Nick could say another word - because Harry didn't want to _hear_ another word from him right then - Harry moved in close to him, boxing him in against the wall.

"Do you want to repeat that?" he asked, voice low and dangerously calm. His face was inches away from Nick's.

Nick shook his head minutely in response to Harry's question, eyes fixed on Harry's unwavering glare.

"I'm sorry," Nick murmured, voice weak as he dropped his gaze.

Harry took a step back, breathing heavily as he tried his hardest not to lash out. Nick glanced back up at him.

"I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have said that," Nick said.

Harry simply shook his head, completely distraught. He couldn't find the words.

He turned to walk away, meaning to just walk straight into the private room and leave it at that but then he heard a third voice and turned again to see what was happening.

"I don't think so, mate." A security guard had approached them at some point, and had a firm grip on Nick's shoulder.

"Oh, come on," Nick scoffed. "Don't be a dick."

"I won't have you talking to me, or any of my co-workers like that. If you're going to continue we will have you removed from the building," the security guard stated, briskly and with no emotion.

Nick turned to look at Harry, pleadingly.

"Harry, I really am sorry. I shouldn't have said that," Nick repeated, softly.

"No, you shouldn't," Harry agreed. "I'll see you later," he said, and then turned on his heel and entered the room.

"Harry, please!" Nick called desperately, but Harry didn't turn back, and let the door close behind him, blocking him off from Nick and his hurtful words.

By the time the scene rolled around, Nick hadn't made an appearance. Harry didn't even know if he was still inside the club. He certainly hadn't tried to enter the scene room, hadn't tried very hard at least. Obviously the idea of paying to watch hadn't occurred to him; that or the security guard had refused him entry, but Harry figured Nick still would have found a way if he'd really wanted to support Harry that night.

So, Harry had started his scene in a foul mood, and for the first time ever since he'd started performing he had kept asking Liam for more and more; to hit him harder, faster, to use more implements. He'd lost track of time completely, lost track of everything really except for the things Liam was inflicting on him in that room, and he'd retreated so far into his fuzzy headspace that he had genuinely been a little bit worried to start with, thinking he was getting a little lost, but he had finally succumbed to it entirely. He was totally floating, various places on his body screaming in protest at him - although even that had faded out to a pleasant almost numb feeling.

Everything else was forgotten.

~~~

Nick had always gotten a little hotheaded when he'd been drinking, a fact that he would deny at every opportunity, despite his friends' various pieces of evidence supporting this fact. He'd been fine with Harry so far, though, never even losing his temper a little with him despite the fact that their main hangout was one that provided lots and lots of alcohol.

So, it had probably only been a matter of time.

He knew he had been pushing his luck, and was definitely getting on Harry's nerves, but he'd gone down to the club with Harry to spend time with him, not to have him disappear as though they were back to square one of their relationship.

The security guard's constant annoying presence as he'd hovered nearby clearly listening to every word they said had made Nick more and more irritated at the whole situation, but he had no idea why he'd said what he had. He didn't have an excuse for it.

He regretted it the second the words had left his mouth. Nick never ever wanted to see the hurt and fury he'd seen at that moment in Harry's eyes again. He hoped desperately that he hadn't managed to just blow everything with his short temper.

Nick had gone away and struggled desperately to sober up in the hours it took for Harry to finish his shift, and had eventually walked back to the club with the appearance of a dog with its tail between its legs. He was feeling genuinely sorry, regretting everything he'd said to Harry in that hallway. Harry didn't deserve that, Nick shouldn't have pushed like that.

Nick walked down the quiet alleyway behind the club and, with a slightly trembling hand, pushed the staff door open. He was immediately welcomed in from the cold of the alleyway by the comforting warmth of the staff room and his eyes fell immediately on the sight of Liam and Harry; the only two people in the room, luckily.

Liam was sat on the sofa with Harry sat on the floor between Liam's spread legs, his own legs bent up slightly in front of him. Liam was rubbing sure strong hands along Harry's back and shoulders, and Harry was breathing deep, slow, even breaths. Harry's head was down, his curtain of hair hiding his face from Nick's view.

Liam looked up quickly when Nick entered, and Nick smiled.

"Hey, lads, sorry for the rude entrance. Thought this was the best way in, um, how's - "

"Shh!" Liam suddenly interrupted, the noise loud in the room, and then he turned his attention fully back to Harry, bending down to murmur something into his ear.

"What's going on?" Nick questioned, but Liam simply shushed him again, straightening up and not even bothering to look in Nick's direction.

Nick was about to object when Harry made a small noise in his throat. Nick's eyes snapped down to him but his position hadn't changed at all. Liam's hands tightened on Harry's shoulders, and he spoke soothingly to Harry, a little louder than before.

"Hey, no, babe, don't come up too quickly. You're alright, I promise." Liam continued massaging Harry's shoulders and Harry seemed to relax, letting out a long slow exhale. "That's it," Liam praised, smoothing a hand all the way down Harry's back, then across the plane of his shoulder blades, before resuming his massage.

"Um, okay," Nick said slowly, taking the hint and speaking quieter this time. He carefully put his bag down on the floor and approached the sofa. Liam looked up wearily at him but didn't speak, didn't stop his ministrations on Harry's back at all, simply watched as Nick came closer. "Can I sit?" Nick asked quietly, gesturing at the empty space next to Liam on the sofa.

Liam shrugged, but as Nick lowered himself down, he spoke up. "Actually, would you mind fetching Haz some water. There are bottles over there, and there should be some clean glasses over there." Liam gestured with his head as he spoke and Nick nodded, and straightened up again.

He kept an eye on the pair of them as he moved around the room, but Harry still didn't move in any way. His breathing was slow and steady, and from the new angle, Nick could see more of Harry. His hands were loosely interlocked between his slightly spread legs, and his eyes were closed, his forehead smooth and peaceful. His chin was practically resting on his chest, he was so loose-limbed and floppy.

Nick took the bottle of water and an empty glass over to the table and placed the glass down softly before uncapping the bottle. He noticed Harry flinch a little at the sound.

When Nick started pouring the water into the glass, Liam spoke up again. "Harry," he said, voice a little firm. "Nick's here, okay? He's got you some water."

It was as though Liam was talking to a child, speaking firmly and slowly, but somehow it wasn't patronizing. Nick really wished he knew what was going on, though.

"You can give it to him," Liam said, and Nick jolted, realised Liam was looking across at him, looking pointedly between Nick and the glass of water in his hand.

"Oh, right," Nick cleared his throat and approached Harry, dropping down to squat in front of him. "Here, Harry. Here's the water."

He held the glass out towards Harry but he still didn't react, didn't lift his head. He hadn't even opened his eyes, although his breathing had become more regular than it had been before.

"Harry," Liam said firmly, and Harry's breath hitched. Nick looked up to see that Liam's hands had stilled, fingers curled around the tops of Harry's shoulders. "Harry," he repeated, and Harry shifted slightly but still didn't speak.

Liam sighed, and then lifted one hand and drew it back. Before Nick could even register what was happening, Liam brought the back of his hand down onto Harry's back in a slap and Harry jolted.

Nick frowned and was about to speak up when Harry took in a deep breath and lifted his head slowly, lethargically.

_"Harry,"_  Liam repeated again, immediately. "Nick's brought you some water."

Nick brought his gaze to Harry's face, and saw that Harry was frowning, his eyes still closed.

"Talk to him," Liam said, suddenly. "But be gentle, not too loud, yeah?"

He resumed his massage and Harry's head started to droop again, so Nick spoke up.

"Harry, there's some water for you here, if you want it."

Harry's head lifted again at Nick's words, and he finally slowly blinked his eyes open.

Nick's own eyes widened when he took in Harry's expression properly. His eyes were glassy, like there was some sort of haze floating at the front of them, and he looked right at Nick but it was almost as though he wasn't really seeing him.

"Keep talking to him," Liam said, voice impossibly soft. "Keep using his name. You're doing great."

Nick swallowed, and held out the glass of water, hoping no one would notice how his hand was shaking and making the liquid jump around.

"Harry, I got you some water. Thought you might like some," Nick's voice was a little wobbly, weak.

Harry's eyes didn’t leave Nick's face. His body was being jostled by Liam's movements behind him, but he didn't seem to be focusing on any of that, didn't seem to be bothered by it.

Harry blinked slowly, so impossibly slowly, and then his gaze dropped down to the glass of water. Nick held it out a little closer to him encouragingly, but Harry slowly shook his head. His eyes fluttered shut again and his head fell down to his chest.

"What the fuck is wrong with him?" Nick suddenly asked, abrupt and probably too loud.

Harry's breathing hitched again, and he twitched away from the sound of Nick's voice.

"I'll explain later, or Harry will," Liam said, sounding exasperated. Nick tried not to take it personally.

Liam quickly drew the same hand back as before and backhanded Harry's shoulder again.

This time Harry whined, an honest to god _whine,_ high in his throat, and he turned his head to the side, in Liam's direction, pouting.

"You need to drink some water, Harry, that isn't a suggestion," Liam said firmly, his voice leaving no room for discussion.

Harry blinked slowly a few more times and this time when his gaze reached Nick again, he was a lot more focused than he had been before, his brow furrowed. There was something unreadable in Harry's eyes as he met Nick's, and Nick tried to offer up a smile in return. Harry didn't smile back, his eyes dropping to the glass of water again before slowly reaching out for it. Nick met him halfway and their fingers brushed as Harry's closed around the cold glass. Nick was pretty sure Harry let out a shiver at the contact, his eyes fluttering shut, before Nick let go of the glass and Harry brought it up to his mouth.

Liam hadn't resumed his massaging, was just sat still behind Harry, one hand curved around his shoulder.

Harry took a long drink from the glass, his teeth clattering against the rim at the first contact. When the glass was about half empty, he rested the glass on his lap, one hand still curled around it protectively.

Harry looked around the room, gaze focused and intent now, as though he was working out where he was, seeing the room for the first time. When his eyes fell on Nick again, a small wry smile crept onto his face, which Nick hesitantly returned.

"I've finished being all sexy now," Harry said slowly, tone dry and sarcastic, even as the smile remained on his lips. His gaze was calculating as he looked at Nick. "I did it."

"Harry!" Both Liam and Nick said at the same time, Liam speaking warningly, while Nick's tone was apologetic, and Harry frowned, lowering his gaze to his lap.

"Sorry," he muttered, the words buried in the glass he'd brought back up to his lips. His eyes shifted up to Nick and then away again quickly while he drank.

Nick hesitantly moved forwards and neither Harry or Liam stopped him in any way, so he carefully reached out and placed a hand on Harry's leg, just letting him feel him there.

Harry sighed then, a long exhale, and he looked down at Nick's hand, then up at Nick's face, then down again. Another long sigh in which his head fell forward, his hair brushing against Nick's fingers.

"Nick," Harry whispered, so quietly Nick wasn't sure he'd even heard him correctly.

"Yeah, babe?" he questioned softly, but Harry shook his head, face still hidden.

"Nick," he whispered again, and Nick frowned, not sure what Harry wanted.

Liam seemed to understand though - something that bothered Nick irrationally; _he_ was the one who was supposed to understand Harry completely, what bond did _Liam_ have with him? - and patted Harry lightly on the shoulder before getting up to his feet.

"I'll leave you two to it," he said with a small smile. "I've got to get back to work anyway. Alright, Harry?" Liam said, speaking a little louder to Harry. "Let me know when you're in from work, Haz, yeah? Text me. Take care of yourself."

Liam waited for Harry to nod, which took a few moments but he eventually did so, before he left with a small nod at Nick, leaving Nick feeling absolutely baffled.

A few minutes passed in silence, with Nick running his thumb lightly over Harry's leg, and Harry breathing steadily next to him. Finally - fucking finally - Harry raised his head again, a smile on his lips, even while his eyes were slightly teary.

"Nick," he said again, his smile growing. "Nick."

"It's me, babe," Nick said, mirroring Harry's smile. "You all good?"

Harry grinned then, a dimple popping into his cheek. He shifted so he could rest his head on Nick's shoulder, meaning Nick was unable to see his face again, which wasn't great, but it also meant that he could have physical contact with Harry again, so he wasn't about to complain. He pulled Harry closer with an arm around his shoulders, and Harry sighed again, burrowing his face into Nick's neck. Nick tried to ignore the wetness he could feel on his skin, comforting Harry the best way he could; running a hand through Harry's hair, pressing small tentative kisses to the top of Harry's head. He felt Harry relax gradually beside him more and more until he was practically melted on top of him. At that point, Harry let out a small giggle, and turned suddenly, craning his neck up to capture Nick's lips - which had already been poised to kiss Harry's head again - with his own.

"Nick, I - uh - " Harry cleared his throat, ducking his head away from Nick's face before pressing another firm kiss to Nick's mouth. "Let's go and meet your parents," Harry murmured against Nick's lips, tone leaving no room for argument.

Nick pulled away anyway, looking down at Harry questioningly, but Harry simply gazed back.

"Are you sure?" Nick asked. "Shouldn't we talk about - "

"No," Harry said firmly, then corrected himself. "I mean, yeah we probably _should._ But not right now. Not tonight. Let's go and meet Mr and Mrs Grimshaw."

"Eileen and Pete," Nick corrected. "Don't call them Mr and Mrs; they'd flip."

Harry huffed a laugh, scrubbing at his eyes and wincing when his hand came away streaked with black makeup. "Let me just get all of this off," he said, pushing himself up to his feet, Nick following behind.

Nick watched as Harry used a wipe to take off all of his makeup, then applied some sort of lotion to his face, leaning in to inspect himself with a critical eye.

"You look beautiful," Nick said softly, meaning it completely, and Harry's eyes snapped to his in the mirror. Nick smiled encouragingly.

"I don't know whether I feel it without the makeup," Harry murmured, eyes dropping down.

"Well, that's rubbish, love. You look gorgeous with or without it. Put some more on, if you want to, though? We have time," Nick assured him.

Harry shook his head, crossing his arms across his chest defensively. "'S'weird, isn't it? Boys aren't supposed to wear makeup."

"Harry!" Nick scolded instantly. "What the fuck?"

Harry's gaze snapped up to Nick's reflection.

"Who cares what people are 'supposed' to do? How many times do I need to tell you that what you want and what you like are completely fine and valid. You don't need to follow any expectations. How boring would that be?" Nick said, and Harry smiled.

"Yes, dad," Harry grinned, and Nick gasped out a shocked noise, smacked gently at his side before pulling him close in a hug.

"Honestly, you look gorgeous. You wear as much or as little makeup as you like, love," Nick said, and watched with a strange sense of pride as Harry unzipped his makeup bag to take out his eyeliner and mascara. He watched on as Harry slowly applied both with a slightly shaky hand.

Harry met Nick's eyes in the mirror a little uncertainly when he was done, and Nick gave him a thumbs up, grinning, then nudged Harry's hip with his own. "Here, that gold there is stunning. Why don't you put that on?" He gestured at a glittery gold pot sticking out the top of Harry's makeup bag, but Harry shook his head shyly, zipping the bag back up and turning to face Nick.

"Thank you. I mean it. Just, thank you. You're so... accepting," Harry said, tone entirely sincere, before leaning up to kiss him.

"Well, you're just so easy to accept," Nick smiled, feeling Harry smile against his lips in response. "But you're welcome. Shall we get going, babe? Are you ready?"

Harry took a deep breath and then grabbed hold of Nick's hand, nodded decisively. "Let's go," he smiled up at Nick, Nick's heart doing an embarrassing flip at the sight. He squeezed Harry's hand tighter in lieu of a response, and Harry squeezed back, reached up to press a kiss to Nick's cheek.

The fluttering in Nick's chest didn't quite disappear.

~~~

Louis pushed open his front door and was immediately bombarded by two very pink, very glittery, very shrill beings. He laughed, wrapping his arms around them both as best he could, while struggling to remain upright under the sudden added weight. He was pretty sure he'd dropped his sports bag, and just hoped it hadn't landed on either of his little sister's toes. They were still shrieking at a high pitch in his ear, so he couldn't be sure either way.

"What's all this noise for?" Louis heard his mum enter the hallway, and then coo at the sight in front of her. "Anyone would think you'd been gone for a month, Lou!"

"I know," Louis laughed. "How long was it this time? Like, two hours?"

"Something like that," his mum agreed. "Come on, girlies, let poor Louis get in the door, at least."

"But, mum," Daisy - Louis was almost one hundred percent sure it was Daisy - whined in Louis' ear, clinging onto him tighter like a koala bear.

" _'But mum'_ nothing. He's been gone for two hours," Louis' mum laughed, and Louis felt the girls' grips loosen.

"Hiiii!" he cheered, when he could finally get a look at their faces.

The girls were beaming up at him as though he was the actual sun, and Louis didn't think he would ever get over the feeling of being so wanted like that, so admired and looked up to, and not just because hardly anyone in Louis' life _could_ physically look up to him.

"How have you been this morning, then? What have you been up to?" Louis asked as he pulled the front door shut behind him.

"Watched telly, played in the garden, helped Mum clean the house!" Daisy announced proudly while Fizzy hung back a little shyly.

"Yeah? Was that fun?" Louis asked, smiling down at them when they both nodded eagerly in response. "Great! Well, I really need a shower, okay? I'm all sweaty and gross from football."

"We noticed," Fizzy grinned, and Louis pulled a mock offended face at her.

"How did the practise go, love?" Louis' mum questioned as Louis made his way down the hall to his bedroom. "All ready for Monday?"

"Yep, I think so!" Louis said. "Obviously, it was our last practise before the actual game seeing as all the other boys are too lazy to play on Sunday so we tried to push ourselves quite hard. I'm sure we'll be fine, yeah. We're not really doing it for ourselves anyway, it's just helping out another team."

"Hey, you never know what might happen, Lou. There's going to be a talent scout watching you play. You should embrace that."

"They're not going to be watching _me_ play - not my team. They're watching the players on the other team, we're just there to make up the numbers!" Louis protested.

"Well, all I'm saying is anything could happen."

"Thanks, mum," Louis smiled. He knew she felt bad that his attempts at breaking into a career in football when he was younger hadn't gone well, and he was grateful that she was still so supportive of him despite that. But he wasn't going to fool himself into thinking that Monday was going to bring him his big break or anything. "I really need to shower now, sorry."

"No, that's fine. You go ahead, love. I'll see you in a bit."

Louis' mum retreated and he went into his bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind him. He sat down on his bed to slip his football boots off, cringing at the amount of mud all over them, and making a note to himself to clean them as soon as possible.

He moved across to the en-suite bathroom, still fully clothed, to get the shower started, and then went back to sit on his bed, taking a moment just to relax and come down from the adrenaline of the game. His heart was still thrumming pleasurably in his chest and he didn't want to lose that feeling too quickly. When the water had been running for a while, he realised he'd better get a move on, and flicked his socks off before reaching for his jacket.

Wincing again at how muddy the sleeves of his jacket were - probably from being thrown onto the ground rather than hung up in the changing rooms; he could practically _hear_ his mother's lecture in his head - he realised he'd better wash that too. He decided it would probably be a good idea for him to check the pockets instead of just putting it to the side and then forgetting to when he put it in the wash, so he did that.

A few short minutes later, Louis really really wished he hadn't bothered.

Being away from London had done a very good job at helping Louis to forget, to move on. The whole moving process had managed to keep his mind completely off of everything going on back there, and then he'd been so busy ever since that he had just cleared his mind of his London life totally.

Pulling Harry's crumpled note from his pocket had been the biggest mistake Louis could have possibly made. It had definitely been a case of out of sight, out of mind ever since he'd shoved that note into his pocket. Louis wished it had remained there, wished that it would have just gotten washed, and ruined, so that Louis _could_ forget about it forever. Of course Louis had been given a reminder of Harry's existence the day before when he had felt the strangely familiar stinging pains in his body. But he had battled through that, taken as many painkillers as he could face, feigning a headache when his mum asked what was wrong, and distracting himself the best way he knew how - by throwing himself into a game with his little sisters.

But, no. He couldn't battle through this quite so well. Harry's note sat there on the bed beside him, looking up at him, mocking him. It was as though the note had been a _warning_.

Louis was currently sat stock still, staring down at his injured arm, breathing heavily through his nose.

Why did Louis have to be the person he was? He would never be _right._ He couldn't be fixed. He was all completely wrong. He had probably hurt Harry. No, _shit,_ he had definitely hurt Harry. Physically, at least. _Shit._ That was how this whole fucking thing worked, after all. Louis hadn't cried until that point but at that realisation, the tears finally slipped down his cheeks.

**_You are so far from forgettable._ **

Apparently that worked both ways.

~~~

Nick had only been back from dropping his parents off at the train station for an hour or so, and was in the kitchen, washing up their various bits and pieces from the weekend, when he heard a loud yelp from the bedroom, swiftly followed by absolute silence. Even as Nick hurriedly pushed away from the sink to run and check on Harry, he felt intense white hot pain coursing through his right arm.

"Oh, you fucker!" Nick shouted out through gritted teeth, tears springing to his eyes. He quickly grabbed onto the wall to steady himself as he hobbled on his way to the bedroom, barely thinking or seeing straight through the haze of _pain pain pain._

He froze halfway down the hall when he realised what the pain actually felt like. Nick didn't want to think it, didn't want to let his mind go there, but it was inevitable. The pain felt like a cut _._

"Shit, fuck. Harry!" Nick shouted, starting to move down the hall again. "Harry, can you hear me? Are you okay? Talk to me!"

Nick briefly wondered if Harry had _really_ been that upset about falling asleep earlier. They'd only been with Nick's parents for about half an hour before Nick had realised that Harry was very quiet, and a quick glance over at him had shown that he was fast asleep on the sofa next to him. They had all laughed about it afterwards though, and Nick had assured Harry that no one was offended. Surely he wasn't that upset about it that he would be driven to something like that? Had the argument from the other night still been lingering on Harry's mind? Was this _Nick's_ fault?

"Harry!" Nick called, finally reaching the bedroom door. The walk had seemed to take an extra long time with the agonising pain still coursing through his arm, the hallway stretching for miles.

Nick's bedroom door was ajar and he quickly shoved it fully open. What he saw when he reached the bedroom doorway made him pause for a second, though. The sight of Harry sat stock still on Nick's bed with his bare arm held out perfectly straight in front of him while he stared down at it, sobered Nick up a little. Nick's heart started pounding in his chest when he saw that Harry's bare arm was actually _completely_ bare. There was absolutely no marks on his skin that Nick could see, and he quickly held his own arm out, examining it with wide eyes, and seeing nothing there either.

"Harry," Nick whispered, but Harry didn't look up at him, just continued to stare down at his arm with a numb expression, silent tears trickling down his cheeks. "Harry, love. What - what happened?" 

"What did you do?" Harry spoke in a very small voice, words coming extra slowly, and still not looking up from his arm. "Why would you do that?"

"What did  _ I  _ do?" Nick asked incredulously. " _ You _ \- I didn't - what?" he finished on a whisper, as he struggled to make sense of what was going on through the crush of pain and confusion clouding his brain.

"Your  _ arm," _  Harry gritted out as if Nick was being deliberately obtuse. "What did you do to your arm?" His words trailed off into another whimper, long and loud, as Nick felt the pain return more intensely to his arm.

Harry began sobbing on the bed, beginning to curl in on himself, and Nick tried to ignore his own pain to move over to him. "Harry, love, I don't know what's happening. I really don't know what is going on right now, but you need to listen to me, okay? You're alright. You're not bleeding, yeah, love? I know it feels like you are, but you're not. Look at your arm, properly, yeah? There's no blood, okay?"

Nick knelt down in front of Harry and reached out a shaking hand to gently run a finger along the area he knew was hurting on Harry's arm, hearing Harry whimper above him. He showed his fingers to Harry, who did actually look at them, albeit with hazy glassy eyes.

"There's no blood," Nick repeated softly. "You're okay. You're fine."

Nick gasped out suddenly as the pain intensified again, and Harry's eyes snapped up to his, his mouth hanging open slightly.

"What? Are you - ? You're still hurting, too? You're in pain?" Harry asked, eyes wide, and voice frantic.

"Um, yeah. I really don't know why. I'm not sure what's going on. It wasn't you, and look, I'm not bleeding either," Nick said, holding his arm out to Harry to try and reassure him, but his words seemed to do the exact opposite of what he'd intended, as Harry's face crumpled in front of him. "Oh, hey, no, shhh, babe. You're okay. We're okay."

Harry shook his head fervently. "Shit, shit, shit," he muttered, his voice thick with the tears that he swiped impatiently off his cheeks. "Shit. God, he's - what if he's…" Harry rambled, and Nick frowned in utter confusion.

"Harry, what's going on?" Nick asked slowly.

Harry sobbed. "Fuck, Nick, I - there's something I haven't told you. That I probably should have, so please please don’t hate me. I - I wasn't trying to keep it from you, I just didn't know if it was the right thing to do.  _ Fuck,"  _ Harry whimpered, burying his face in his arms as he cried.

"Harry, it's okay. Don't panic. Tell me what you need to tell me," Nick said, keeping his voice deliberately calm.

Harry reached out a hand and Nick took the hint and grabbed hold of it, lacing his fingers through Harry's and squeezing.

"There's - I think - well, no, I  _ know…"  _ Harry took a deep breath, his teary eyes meeting Nick's. "There's someone else."

~~~

Harry had been so impatient in the car, tapping at his legs, kicking his feet against the floor, practically bouncing in his seat, willing the traffic to clear and for them to just arrive, already.

When he'd seen the diner sign in the distance, he'd told Nick to just pull over, and he'd ran out while Nick found somewhere to park. He'd sprinted into the diner, panting heavily and looking around wildly for a glimpse of Louis. For a denim jacket, or a pink jumper, or his scruffy hair,  _ anything.  _ But he couldn't see him on first glance, and his stomach leaped up into his throat in worry. He genuinely thought he was about to throw up right there on the floor.

He forced the panic down and approached the bar, quickly capturing the attention of the blond he'd seen in there a few times.  _ Niall. _

"Hey, mate, back again! What can I get for you this evening?" he asked jovially, but whatever he saw in Harry's expression made him stop, his own expression growing serious. "What's wrong? Do you need help?"

Harry nodded, tears welling up in his eyes. "I need help," he said. "Please."

"Okay, okay, mate. Um, do you want to come in here? This is our staff room. You can have a little sit down and we can call someone for you, yeah?" Niall said, moving down the bar to the staff door.

Harry felt the tears escape his eyes, remembering the last time he'd seen Louis in that exact spot, suddenly terrified that he would never see Louis again. His knees buckled underneath him and he fell to the ground.

He heard Niall cuss under his breath, and then a warm pair of arms were enveloping him from behind, lifting him up and holding him close.

"Shh, shh, love," he heard Nick's voice cooing soothingly in his ear, but he could only sob harder.

"Here, come through here," he distantly heard Niall say, and then they were in a completely quiet room. Only the sounds of Harry's laboured breathing and crying filled the room. "What's going on?" Niall asked cautiously, as Harry was lowered down into a chair gently.

"We've had a massive shock, only about an hour ago. We came down here as soon as we could. You know Louis, right? It was  _ Louis _ , wasn't it, Harry?" Harry nodded numbly. He was so thankful that Nick had chosen to take over. Harry honestly didn't think he was capable of speech at that moment. A cold glass of water was pressed into Harry's hand, and Harry looked up gratefully at Niall.

"Yeah, I know Louis. Why do you ask? Is he alright?" Niall answered, looking between the two of them uneasily.

"That's what we were hoping you would know, to be honest," Nick said, and Harry tried to fight down the panic that was still bubbling up inside him, forced himself to sip slowly at the water and try to stop shaking.

"Um, well, I haven't spoken to him today, chatted to him yesterday though. He moved away, back home, a while ago. But I don't see why he wouldn't be okay, to be honest. Is there a reason you ask?" Niall asked.

Harry quickly looked up at Nick, warning him with his eyes not to say too much, which luckily Nick seemed to understand.

"No, no, not really. Harry hasn't heard from him in a while, and he's had some bad news tonight, and wanted to possibly talk to Louis about it, but couldn't get a hold of him. Do you - do you think you could maybe try to now?" Nick said, speaking cautiously, but sounding as though he was telling the truth.

"Um, yeah, of course, let me just grab my phone."

Niall moved away, and Nick draped an arm around Harry's shoulders, pulling him close and pressing kisses to the top of his head. "It's going to be okay," he murmured into Harry's hair. "It's all going to be okay."

"I'm just getting through to his voicemail," Niall called as he approached them again. "But it  _ is  _ pretty late, so he could just be sleeping. I can keep texting him for you if you want. D'you have Louis' number, though?"

Another silent conversation took place between Nick and Harry, and Nick nodded his head. It would be ideal for Harry to get Louis' number there and then, but he knew that Niall would get suspicious. "Yeah, mate. We'll keep trying as well. So sorry to bother you. Thanks so much for all of this."

"No, it's not a problem at all, honestly. I - uh - I hope you're going to be okay."

Harry nodded slowly. "I will. Yeah, sorry, for breaking down on you there." He tried for a smile, that didn't quite reach his eyes, and Niall patted him on the leg sympathetically. "We'll get out of your way. Thanks again."

"You're welcome. Take as long as you need and just come out when you're ready. Do you want to leave me your number in case Lou gets in touch?" Niall asked, and Harry nodded gratefully.

He tried not to make the connection between doing the exact same thing for Louis and doing it for Niall now as he wrote down his number on a piece of paper, but the memories sprung to his mind anyway and he had to fight down a fresh wave of tears.

"Here," he muttered, pushing the paper towards Niall, who pocketed it.

"Thanks, man. I'd better get back to work," Niall said, moving towards the door. "Honestly, stay as long as you want, though. Take care of yourself, yeah? Both of you."

"Thank you," Nick said. "We'll be out of your way soon."

With another smile and a brief wave, Niall was gone, and Nick pulled Harry into a tight hug, stroking his back calmingly.

Harry gripped onto Nick's shirt, holding it tight between his fists, anchoring himself there in that moment as he tried to breathe normally.

"I promise you, Harry, everything is going to be okay. You'll see."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that you can watch the trailer for this fic here if you want to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GcDf6r9fn3M (but be aware of minor spoilers if that would bother you!)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** Another of my favourite scenes in this chapter! Here we go! I don't think there are any warnings needed for this chapter. ***

Nick's heart was thumping uncomfortably hard in his chest. He was genuinely a little concerned that the microphone would be able to pick it up and his sheer nerves would be broadcast to the nation.

He knew that this was the right thing to do, or at least he _hoped_ it was. God, he hoped it was. He and Harry had both come to the agreement that this was what Nick should do, so Nick was going to stick to his word.

He knew they couldn't continue the way they had been, especially Harry. It just wasn't healthy.

The night they'd found out about Louis, Harry had taken the night off work and spent the entire evening cuddled up extra close to Nick in bed, and Nick had held onto him tightly in some sort of mutual unspoken agreement. They had needed each other that night more than they ever had done.

Nick had drifted in and out of sleep in a very unsatisfying pattern, but each time he'd woken up, Harry had already been awake, breathing unevenly beside him. When Nick had woken up on Sunday morning, Harry was finally sleeping, but even though Nick slid out of bed as carefully as he could Harry woke up instantly, eyes wide and staring blearily around the room.

During the day on Sunday, Harry had received a text from Niall, which Harry saw immediately, thanks to the ever-constant presence of his phone in his hand since that night. The message said that Niall had spoken to Louis and that he seemed absolutely fine. This probably should have reassured them both, made them feel a lot better, but considering that Niall had never known the full extent of what had been worrying Harry and Nick so much, and so didn't know how serious things could have been, it didn't quite have that effect. Sunday night had been pretty much the same story; tight cuddles in bed, with Nick dozing on and off and Harry staying awake the whole time. The next morning, despite Nick's early start for the breakfast show, Harry was awake before Nick, already sitting up in bed and staring off into the distance when Nick's alarm went off.

They had come to the conclusion that things needed to change, and they didn't know how else to go about making that change. Nick's radio show was definitely the biggest avenue they had at that moment, and they had decided that Nick should just casually mention something during the show that morning, just in case Louis happened to be listening. It was a long shot, and they both knew that, but it was all they had.

Nick took a deep breath as the current track faded, trying to steady his nerves as he leaned into the microphone.

"That was Desire from Tove Lo and Years & Years, there. Great song, that, isn't it? We'll have some more music on the way in just a minute. I - "

Nick paused, taking another deep breath. _Here goes nothing._

"There's something I just wanted to talk about really quickly, if that's alright. I promise I won't hold anyone up!" Nick's laugh sounded forced even to his own ears. "I actually have some kind of big news that I have been holding off from telling the nation until now, but certain things have happened and I wanted to announce it now, so I, Nicholas Grimshaw, have found my wonderful soulmate. I don't want to get all soppy here, and I'm sure none of you lot particularly want that either, so I'll keep it brief. We met only a couple of weeks ago, but we have been pretty much inseparable since. He's lovely and perfect, and I know he's listening to the show right now, but that's not why I’m saying that, I promise! He's just great, really. Um, the reason I'm telling you all this is because a couple of nights ago we both felt someone else's pain. And we had already formed our bond when this happened, _and_ neither of us were hurt, so we knew for sure that it wasn't either of us being clumsy or anything. So ever since then we've kind of been researching this and it doesn't seem all that common? Basically we're really not sure what's going on, so if anyone has any comments, please do text in and let me know. Or tweet me, that would be great. We're thinking there might be another soulmate out there for us, but god knows if that's, like, even possible? Do just educate us, yeah? Thanks a lot. Okay, enough of that! Let's get back to the music, shall we? This is No Money."

Nick sat back in his chair, able to breathe a little easier now that was over. He thought he'd sounded casual enough, and his story of just knowledge-searching seemed plausible, he was sure.

Now, they could only wait.

~~~

_"You_ _might knock me down, you might knock me down. But I will get back up again_ _!"_  Louis and Aiden sang along loudly and obnoxiously to the radio as Louis' mum drove them both to the football trial.

Louis was in very high spirits. He had managed to banish the events of the weekend from his mind, and was going into this game with all guns blazing. He didn't even care about the actual reason he was there - to help the other team - Louis was determined now, he was doing this for himself. He needed to take the time and the opportunity to run out all the stress of the weekend, to do something he loved doing, just to have a fucking good time.

He was so  _ready._

"Gosh, isn't that whole soulmate situation bizarre?" Louis' mum mused, and Louis rolled his eyes. "Imagine having _two._ How would that even work?"

"Urgh, you don't actually believe him, do you? He's a celebrity, he knows what's going to get him headlines, that's probably all there is to it. The show's ratings have probably been plummeting since he took over and so this is what he's come up with to make himself seem more interesting," Louis said, a little exasperated.

"Yeah, that or his soulmate probably had a headache or something and they're blowing it all out of proportion," Aiden laughed.

"God, you boys are so cynical," Louis' mum sighed as they arrived at the university and pulled into a vacant parking space. "You'll find your mates one day, and then you'll see."

"Yes, and I'm sure we'll also magically have two soulmates, and then we can talk about it on our radio show and get big and famous from it. Of course that's exactly how the world works," Louis snorted.

"Oh, behave," Louis' mum chastised. "Go on, off with you. Best of luck out there, both of you. I'll be thinking of you!"

"Thanks, Mum," Louis grinned, opening the car door and shouldering his sports bag.

"Just text me when you're finished, alright, love?" Louis' mum called after him, and Louis gave her a thumbs up as he and Aiden made their way towards the pitch, where they could already see a couple of players on the field, warming up.

They made a quick detour to the changing rooms to give themselves a little pep talk and dump their things, and then they ran out onto the pitch.

Confidence coursed through Louis' veins from the moment the first whistle rang out through the pitch, to the very last second of the game.

Every goal he scored, every pass he made, every player he tackled, it was all golden, and Louis was thriving on it. He soaked in all of the cheers from the small crowd watching, he gladly accepted all of the high fives and slaps on the back he received, returning them in equal measure amongst his teammates, he savoured the groans of frustration from the opposing team when his team scored or saved a goal. He was on _fire._ It was as though he was finally living again, after so long spent just trudging through life, existing.

This was what Louis was meant to do, he was sure of it, he was _living._

Louis' team beat the opposition 3-1 and exploded off the field, hugging each other and jumping on each others' backs. It was a great feeling to just be _lads_ again, to revel in having nothing else to worry about, because they had just won a match and they were flying.

Most of Louis' teammates had cleared off by the time Louis finished his shower, but that was Louis' own fault, having gotten a little lost in his head under the stream of water. He had spent the longest time imagining a future where that was his career, where the high he was currently feeling was something he got _paid_ to feel. It was a great dream, a great life, but Louis reluctantly left that world eventually. He trudged back into the changing room and gathered his things together, high-fiving Aiden one more time as he made his way out the door.

Louis pulled his phone out of his bag, and frowned when he saw that he had five missed calls from Niall. He'd have to remember to deal with that later. He was midway through texting his mum to come pick him up when he heard someone shouting a little way behind him. He kept walking, though, assuming another match was just taking place or something, but he paused when he heard the voice clearly shout, "Oi, 17!"

He turned, frowning, and saw a man jogging towards him.

"God, have I been there," the man laughed. "So lost in the post-game haze, it's like you're in another world. Right?"

Louis nodded a little confusedly, and took the hand the man was offering.

"I'm Matt. I'm part of the team scouting for talent this week. I watched you playing out there."

"Oh, great! Hi, I'm Louis, it's nice to meet you," Louis replied earnestly, shaking Matt's hand. "They were good, weren't they?"

Matt withdrew his hand. "They were, they were pretty good. I've called a couple of them back for further trials."

"Ah, that's great!" Louis smiled. "Good for them." He was pretty sure his smile wasn't reaching his eyes, but Matt didn't comment on it so he hoped he was good.

"Yeah, they were pretty good," Matt repeated, and Louis had to fight not to roll his eyes. He _knew_ they were good. He was very happy for them, _obviously. "_ But none of them were number seventeen."

Louis forced a small laugh, and looked down at his phone as he felt it vibrate in his hand; his mum letting him know she was on her way. It took a few seconds for Matt's words to sink in, and as soon as they did, his eyes snapped back up.

"There we go. You did hear me," Matt laughed, and Louis frowned in confusion.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Matt only laughed harder, shaking his head. "You were number seventeen, were you not?"

"I was. I _am,_ " Louis said slowly, searching Matt's face for any explanation. The slightest glimmer of hope danced around the edge of his brain, but he didn't want to grab onto it yet. He needed to hear confirmation.

"And you were bloody brilliant, were you not?" Matt continued.

"I don't know about that," Louis shrugged, trying not to smile. _He had been bloody brilliant; he knew he had._

"Yes, you were. There's no room for modesty on our team," Matt said, sternly. "If you want to come along for another trial, you're going to have to leave that modesty back here in Donny, understood?"

Louis nodded, but then frowned. "Wait, no. I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"I'm offering you a further trial, if you want to take it. You were seriously impressive out there. I mean, I know this is only a small team situation, but I really think you would be able to handle your own in a larger environment. I want to give you the chance to prove that," Matt explained. "Would you be interested in coming along for another trial?"

Louis' eyes widened, his heart thumping in his chest. "I - god, yeah I do want to. Thank you so much!"

"No need to thank me. Thank yourself for playing so well!" Matt smiled. "Now, the only thing is, the next trial will be held up in London. Would you be able to get there okay?"

Louis barely even registered the minor sinking feeling in his heart. This was really happening, this was what was supposed to happen all along. He knew that he had to take this chance.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm sure I could get there," Louis answered.

"Great!" Matt grinned. "Here, these are the details of the next trial. You might want to arrange to be down in London for a couple of days either side of the actual event, just in case of emergencies. We really don't want to miss out on your talent, seventeen."

Louis took the piece of paper Matt held out to him and skimmed it briefly, not really taking in any of the information.

"Thanks so much," Louis repeated. "I will definitely be there."

"I'll see you there, then!" Matt said, holding out his hand for Louis to shake again. "Oh, I'm loving your nail varnish by the way!"

Louis' eyes widened and he snatched his hand away, hiding his mint green painted nails behind his back shyly, balling his hand into a fist.

"Hey, no! I'm not taking the piss, I was serious. They look great. Honestly," Matt said sincerely. "Don't be embarrassed."

Louis smiled, feeling the flush in his cheeks. "Thank you," he murmured.

Matt grinned, and patted him on the arm, before turning and running back towards the pitch. Louis watched him go, and then looked back down at the paper, reading over it more thoroughly.

Louis was still staring down at the piece of paper when he was startled out of his thoughts by a car horn. He turned and saw his mum's car parked in the car park and he jogged towards it, still half transfixed by the paper.

"Hey, love," Louis' mum called when he was within earshot. "How did it go? Did you have fun?"

Louis slid into the passenger seat, a little numbly, but turned to beam at his mum who returned the smile.

"Is this good news?" his mum pressed, eyes flicking between Louis' delighted face and the paper he was still clinging onto as though it were a lifeline.

Louis nodded, feeling tears springing to his eyes. "Such good news," he whispered, and held the paper out towards her. "The best news."

"Oh, Lou!" she gushed after reading the paper. "Congratulations. I knew you could do it! I am so so proud of you, darling!"

She pulled Louis into a tight warm hug, and he clung onto her gratefully, feeling his heart swell with happiness.

He was finally on the right track. He just knew it.

Louis waited until he was back home and in the privacy of his bedroom, before calling Niall. He had celebrated with his sisters when he'd got in, which had somehow involved Louis running around the living room with one of them on his back, but it had definitely been celebratory.

He listened to the dial tone, his heart still thumping pleasantly in his chest. He felt so happy, like he was on top of the world; he could take on _anything_ and be victorious.

"Louis, thank god you've called. I've been - "

"Niall, Niall, Niall, guess who's going to be - "

They both stopped talking at the same time, waiting for the other to speak first.

"Sorry," Louis laughed sheepishly after the moment of silence dragged on. "You go ahead."

"No, no, maybe you should go first," Niall sounded a little awkward, his voice strained, but then Louis hadn't actually ever spoken to Niall over the phone before, so he assumed it was just that making his voice sound a little altered.

"Oh, if you're sure?" Louis checked, his smile spreading across his face. His cheeks were going to physically hurt by the end of the day, he just knew it.

"I… there's something I need to talk to you about, Lou," Niall said, and he definitely sounded a little off. Louis frowned, Niall was the little ball of sunshine, he couldn't be sad!

"Oi, what's up, Nialler?" Louis questioned. "Finally missing me?"

There was a slight pause.

"I _am_ really missing you actually. When are you coming back?" Niall spoke up, and Louis' stomach zinged with butterflies.

"Actually, I'm coming back very soon! Something brilliant has happened, Niall!" Louis enthused, unable to keep his news inside any longer.

"Oh!" Niall sounded surprised. "You - you already know? Have you spoken to either of them?"

Louis paused, utterly confused. "Have I spoken to either of them?" he repeated slowly. "What does that _mean_ , Nialler?"

"Um…" Niall's voice came through a little more uncertain, quieter. "What's your news, Louis?"

"I've just done my football trial, haven't I? Well, it wasn't  _my_ football trial, but it turns out they fucking loved me! They've asked me to come along to another one at the end of the week!" Louis spoke quickly, his words tumbling over each other in their haste to get out into the world. "They picked me! I'm actually talented!"

"Louis!" Niall said, sounding genuinely happy for him. "Wow! That's amazing! That is such good news, and of _course_ you're talented! This has been your dream for so long! Well done, Tommo!"

"Thanks, Niall!" Louis beamed. "But, yeah, that's why I'm going to be coming back to London soon. The next trial is in London!" Louis explained, and the line fell suddenly silent again. "Ni? You still there?"

"Oh,  _that's_ the reason you're coming back?" he asked. "Not - "

"Not what?" Louis frowned.

"You don't - you haven't spoken to - " Niall struggled to get his words out.

"Finish your sentences, Niall, there's a good lad. We're never going to get anywhere at this rate," Louis teased gently.

"You haven’t spoken to Harry," Niall finally said, an air of finality to his words.

At that, Louis was rendered a little speechless.

"To _Harry?_ " Louis repeated. "How do you know Harry?"

"Um… he comes into the diner, like, all the time?" Niall said, sounding unsure.

"Yeah, he does," Louis confirmed. "But how do _you_ know him? I thought you'd never even spoken to him? Oh my god, have you become friends?" Louis' butterflies started up again at the idea that Harry still went into the diner. Had he been going in there to see Louis?

"Um, no not really," Niall replied. "Um, Louis, were you listening to Radio 1 this morning?"

Louis laughed into the phone. "Niall, dear, are you drunk? Where is your train of thought heading?"

"Did you listen?" Niall repeated.

"Yes, I listened to Radio 1 this morning," Louis answered, deciding to humour Niall.

"I'm going to tell you something really important," Niall said. "You need to take me seriously, okay?"

"Yep," Louis agreed.

"Louis, I mean it."

Niall did sound strangely serious, so Louis paid closer attention.

"Okay, Niall. I'm listening," he said, still very confused as to what was actually going on.

"I know who Harry's soulmate is…" Niall stated, and Louis' stomach turned. _Fuck,_ why had Harry told _Niall?_

"We're talking about Harry again, now, are we? Niall, am I blacking out during this conversation because I am really not following?" He couldn't help himself from butting in, trying to use humour to mask his sudden nerves.

" _Louis!"_  Niall sounded exasperated and Louis shut his mouth. "Will you please just listen? This is really important and I wish I didn't have to do this over the bloody phone but it's important, okay? I know who Harry's soulmate is... and it's Nick Grimshaw."

Louis' mouth fell open and his stomach churned uncomfortably. He wasn't entirely sure what that feeling was that had suddenly caught hold of him. It wasn't quite jealousy; he knew he had no reason to be jealous. It was … it was just strange. Like a strange sort of possessive feeling. Harry was _his_ person, Harry was _his_ friend. Not Nick fucking Grimshaw's.

"Okay," Louis said, his voice a little tight. "That's nice. How did you find that out?" he asked, trying to sound conversational.

Niall began speaking, but Louis found he wasn't quite listening, his mind whirring too vigorously to focus. Harry _was_ his person. Like, not just in a possessive way. In an actual soulmate person way. There had been the coffee, and the limping, and the stabby fork episode. _What the fuck?_

"What the fuck do you mean Nick's Harry's soulmate?" Louis spoke up, and Niall stopped talking mid-sentence.

"What?" Niall asked timidly.

"What do you mean?" Louis repeated.

"Well, I mean that they're soulmates," Niall spoke slowly.

"But - " Louis began, and then snapped his mouth shut. He didn't want to tell Niall about his connection to Harry, he didn't want Niall to know. "Okay," he settled on instead.

"Um, Louis. I was listening to Radio 1 this morning, too," Niall said quietly.

"Oh my god," Louis laughed. "Niall! Seriously. Your train of thought is all over the place. What is wrong with you?"

"It's not!" Louis protested. "Louis, listen to what I'm saying."

"Okay," Louis sighed.

"I know about Harry and Nick," Niall echoed, and Louis just about refrained from jumping in, arguing that there _was_ no 'Harry and Nick'. "And I was listening to Radio 1 this morning."

"Niall," Louis groaned. "You're not - " he broke off abruptly.

His eyes widened and his entire body froze, like, actually went cold.

"Lou?" Niall ventured after a few seconds.

Louis' heart hammered in his chest. "Oh my god," he murmured into the phone.

"Louis…" Niall said again, voice soothing. "It's okay. Are you alright?"

Louis forced himself to breathe normally, forced himself to calm down.

"Yeah, I - I'm okay. I'm - _fuck,"_  he hissed. " _Fuck,_ Niall. _Shit. Wow. Fuck."_  It seemed he had completely lost his brain to mouth filter.

"Hey, shh, shh. It's okay," Niall murmured.

"No, no, I know. It is, it really is," Louis said quickly. He didn't want Niall to think he was _sad._ Niall needed to get with the times. "Niall. Oh my _god,"_ Louis mumbled, a dawning realisation taking root in his mind.

Everything was falling into place, slotting together like a Louis' life jigsaw puzzle.

His career. That had taken a false start four years ago, and that afternoon had been set down along the path to success.

Harry. That had taken a very false start two weeks ago. That evening it had been set down along the path to - to, _what? How would this even work?_ Louis had no idea, but he knew there and then without a shadow of a doubt, that this was meant to happen, and he was ready to find out.

And, then, Nick; a third part to Louis' life that he had never even considered before. He'd never even anticipated anything like that happening, but it was Louis'  _path._ This was it.

Old Louis would have run a mile, would have curled up somewhere and tried to wish this all away. New Louis was confident and ready and sure. This was the right time. Louis was going to make this work.

Louis smiled to himself. Apparently he really was on the right track.

And apparently, that track needed to get him back to London. Back where he began. Back where everything _would_ begin.

~~~

It took a lot of effort for Harry not to spill all the details of the past week over the phone to Gemma, he found it very difficult to keep quiet and stick to the bare minimum, but he managed not to give anything away through sheer willpower alone.

Gemma had gotten a little suspicious and asked why Harry had been so tired - the reason being he had taken on an extra shift at Stripster on Wednesday night - but he had quickly made up a completely believable story about how he was simply covering for another worker, when in fact, Harry had needed to take the extra hours to make sure he'd be able to have Saturday night off to go and _meet his second bloody soulmate!_ Gemma had absolutely no reason to doubt him, though, so she didn't.

Harry still desperately wished he could tell Gemma his big exciting news, though. He really couldn't wait for the day when he would be able to ring up his family and tell him that the thing he wanted the most in the whole wide world? Yeah, he had _two._ Harry really did feel like the luckiest human alive.

However, Harry was aware that Nick didn't entirely share his enthusiasm. Nick was putting on a brave face, and was definitely happy _for_ Harry; he made that very clear. But Harry really wanted Nick to be happy for himself as well, and truthfully couldn't really understand why Nick wasn't as ecstatic as Harry was.

Harry tried his best to be supportive, but when he didn't really understand Nick's point of view, and obviously couldn't get inside Nick's head, it wasn't the easiest task in the world. He just took it upon himself to be as present for Nick as he could be, reassuring him as best he could that no matter what happened nothing would change between the two of them; they would always be Harry-and-Nick, but there just might be an added component to that very soon. But that was okay, because they could make it work, Harry _knew_ it.

At the end of the day, Harry felt as though nothing could burst his bubble; he just wanted to be able to pull Nick into the bubble with him, and then pull Louis in alongside them both a little later on!

Harry was so ready for this party. He was so ready for this huge step in his life.

But he knew he just needed to get Nick right there on board with him; it was a work in progress.

~~~

"Nick? _Nick,"_  Harry's voice dragged Nick out of his thoughts, and he looked over to where Harry was perched on the end of the bed taking his makeup off. Harry was watching him carefully over the top of the small mirror he was holding. "Are you sure you're okay?"

At the beginning of the week, Harry had told Nick all about Niall's master plan to get everyone to meet at a big house party at Niall's flat at the weekend. He'd had the entire week to get used to the idea, but now here they were on the eve of the big event, and Nick didn't feel much more prepared emotionally or physically than he had done when Harry had first broken the news to him.

Nick took in a deep breath. He was feeling really nervous about this whole set-up, and he couldn't deny that. He had gotten used to Harry, to being around Harry all the time, in his presence. He had grown to trust him completely and entirely, so that had all worked out perfectly. But Nick's understanding of how soulmates worked and the way that everything went traditionally, made the presence of another soulmate a difficult pill for Nick to swallow.

He'd spoken to his mum about it - as a very hypothetical situation, of course - and she said she'd never heard of someone having more than one soulmate. He'd spoken to Aimee, and Pixie - also very hypothetically - and while they said it would be so cool to not have to be tied down to one person, they hadn't actually heard of it happening before either.

Nick might not have been telling the entire truth when he'd said on the radio that he wanted people to send in research for him, but it had actually proved to be really helpful, with complete strangers tweeting him links to blogs run by polyamorous soulmates and youtube videos of other people's experiences. The general consensus seemed to be that having more than one soulmate was very rare, and that usually one person in a group situation would never meet the others - the odds of finding just one soulmate being small enough. But it did happen. It was a _thing._

Also, the fact that Nick had never met Louis before, never even seen a _photograph_ or anything, made him feel a little bit uneasy. This guy was supposed to be his _soulmate,_ someone who he was destined to be with, and Nick didn't even know what he looked like. He knew that this was generally how it worked, but it was made more difficult for Nick by the fact that Harry had the advantage of at least having spoken to the guy before. As far as Nick knew Louis was only aware of Harry too, so he was sure Louis wouldn't take too well to Nick showing up as well.

Truthfully, that was probably what Nick was the most nervous about; the feeling of being a third wheel to Harry and Louis, and also the feeling of having to share Harry with someone after having him all to himself, and believing that that was the way it was meant to be. He didn't know if he would be able to take the same feelings he felt for Harry and apply them to someone else, he knew it was going to be difficult for him to adjust to a third person.

Nick wasn't angry at Harry for not telling him about Louis sooner, had never even considered that he should have felt angry. It was Henry who had broached that subject with Nick, asking him outright if that was him and Harry over, and Nick had been completely perplexed.

Nick probably would have done the same thing if he'd been in Harry's shoes. If Nick had suspected he had a soulmate, and then met someone who he _knew_ to be his soulmate, he definitely wouldn’t have brought up the possible second mate. It would just bring unnecessary drama, surely.

"Nick!" Harry said again, sounding exasperated, and Nick blinked slowly, the bedroom coming back into focus around him. "Babe, seriously, do you not want to go through with this?"

"I do!" Nick insisted, and then hesitated, looking at Harry uncertainly.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Go on," he prompted.

"I think I might want to do it more for you than for me," Nick admitted, figuring honesty was the best policy. "Like, I know this is going to make you happy, and it's what you want to do. And that's great. I'm just not as sure about that for myself, at the moment."

Harry sighed and nodded, his lips tight, but he didn’t seem annoyed or even upset so the guilt threatening to smother Nick lessened a little bit. Harry put his mirror down and moved up the bed to talk to Nick properly, taking Nick's hands in his own.

"I understand that, I _do,_ and I can not tell you how grateful I am for that. You're honestly the nicest person, and I don't deserve you," Harry said, looking into Nick's eyes.

Nick leaned in for a kiss, which Harry gave him with no hesitation. When he pulled back, Harry was biting at his lip.

"Look, Nick, tomorrow once we get there, if you really don't want to go through with it, you don't have to. I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do. But I'm not saying _I'm_ not going to want to go through with it as well, yeah? And I want you to understand that. Like, I'm in the same boat as you. I have no idea how this is going to work, or _if_ it's even going to work at all. But I still think I want to find out. So, is that going to be okay with you? Because I don't want to cause any problems between me and you."

In lieu of a response, Nick leaned in again, capturing Harry's lips with his in a longer kiss. He felt Harry's hand come up to cup his cheek and he smiled into the kiss.

"No. There isn't going to be any problems with me and you. I think this is going to be a little bit tough, maybe? And we're all going to need to communicate as well as we can because this could get really messy if we don't _talk_ to one another," Nick said, nudging his cheek into Harry's palm, and Harry smiled softly, moving his hand down to Nick's shoulder.

"I get that," Harry said slowly. "Like, yeah, maybe Louis could be just like a best friend? Or - I don't know - just someone who is supposed to come into our lives, for whatever reason, you know? It might not have to be like a romantic thing. Maybe that's why he's like a third person."

"But it _could be_ a romantic thing. And if it _is_ a romantic thing, what happens, then?" Nick asked, frowning.

"I don't know," Harry said in a small voice. "I think, like you said, just a lot of communication? Like, polyamory is a thing, yeah? People do it all the time and their relationships work for them. They're good and pure, so there's no reason why ours wouldn't work too. But we need to make sure we're all on the same page, so no one thinks it's more or less than it actually is. I don't think we can really know for sure until we actually all officially meet. Like, everything will be out in the open tomorrow night and we can all work out what's going to happen next between us."

Nick nodded, letting Harry's words sink in. He was startled by Harry's lips on his mouth again, pressing softly to his.

"Please, don’t worry about anything, okay?" Harry said softly, his breath brushing against Nick's lips, tickling. "I promise you, Nick, everything is going to be okay."

Nick smiled, recognising his own little pep talk in there, and joined in for the last two words, murmuring them against Harry's lips.

"You'll see."

Nick knew that Harry would be there by his side no matter what and, safe in that knowledge, he knew that he would be able to handle whatever happened the following night.

Whatever happened was supposed to happen, and Nick was finally ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that you can watch the trailer for this fic here if you want to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GcDf6r9fn3M (but be aware of minor spoilers if that would bother you!)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** No warnings needed for this chapter! Sorry it's late, I had internet problems earlier in the week! ***

Louis was absolutely over the moon. He had never felt so elated, it was like he was flying, like he had no weights holding him down any more. He could achieve whatever he wanted to achieved.

He had simply been young before, naive, expecting something to just fall into his lap with minimal or no work. Technically, that _is_ what had actually happened, just four years after he'd been expecting it to.

And Louis _had_ put in all the hard work; slogging away in London just to continue living there, eventually moving back home to help his mum look after the kids, and finally practicing his bum off to be the best football player he could possibly be.

Louis grinned as he sat in the back of the taxi travelling back to Niall's flat for the big house party - Niall's excuse for said party was that his birthday was coming up, but Louis knew a huge reason for this party was for Louis to be able to meet Harry, and Nick, officially. Also Louis was absolutely going to believe that the party was thrown in celebration of his victory! The thrill of that victory hummed through his veins, and his huge grin took up his entire face; he could see it reflected back at him in the darkened car window. He was half listening to his mum squawking excitedly down the phone at him, and half dreaming about where his life was headed.

It dawned on him that everything - _everything_ \- had been worth it.

It had all paid off. Every long shift, living his life at night time, and struggling to pay the rent on a flat he didn't really want to live in; that had been worth it because it had forced him to grow up, and become independent. It had given him the courage to pursue his dreams again, it had given him his knowledge of London, so he wasn't completely lost trying to navigate his way around London now. It had given him _Niall,_ sweet Niall, who had been an absolute saint since the beginning, and continued to be so. Niall had even said that Louis was welcome to stay with him for as long as he needed to while he got this footballing thing off the ground; and that certainly wouldn't have happened if Louis hadn't tried London out the first time round.

All of the heartache of missing his family back home, and the longing to be back there with them, had made the coming home that much sweeter, and had also made the more final-seeming goodbye that week seem a little more bearable, because it had all just cemented the knowledge that Louis would always have a family to return to.

London had also introduced him to Harry, so Louis already knew that he _liked_ Harry. The connection was there to a certain extent, and Louis was genuinely looking forward to getting to know Harry better. Of course, London would also soon give him Nick,  and although Louis still had no idea where that was going to go, he wasn't nervous to find out. He was excited, _so_ excited he could feel it thrumming through his veins.

He knew that nothing could drag him down, _nothing._ No matter what the Great Soulmate God above was going to try and throw at him, Louis knew that he could handle it. 

 _It had all been worth it._ Louis' smile grew even more as he realised that he was actually going to be able to spend time with Harry, and with Niall, and with fantastic football coaches. That was going to be his life from there on out!

This was it.

Louis' life was beginning.

~~~

"Harry!" Niall greeted loudly as he opened the door, a sunny smile on his face and a glass in his free hand. "And Nick! So glad you could both make it!"

"Thanks for inviting us," Harry said a little distractedly, shamelessly trying to peer over Niall's shoulder to see if he could catch a glimpse of Louis.

He clearly hadn't been subtle enough because Niall burst out laughing as he steered them both into the flat, closing the door behind them.

"He's not here yet, mate," Niall leaned up to murmur in Harry's ear. "Here, come through."

Harry glanced over his shoulder to check that Nick was following and when he saw the look of uncertainty renewed on his face, he took hold of Nick's hand, squeezing reassuringly. Nick gave him a slightly shaky but sincere smile and Harry guided them after Niall through the open plan apartment to a tiny kitchen.

The kitchen itself was empty of people, but stocked full of various kinds of alcohol and party snacks.

"You've really gone all out, haven't you?" Harry said, appreciatively.

"This is a typical Horan party, mate!" Niall grinned. "And hopefully your first of many!" He clapped Harry on the back and pressed a drink into his hand, a glance to his side showed that Niall had already given Nick one too.

"Hopefully," Harry agreed, in a small voice.

"Hey, chin up!" Niall said, chucking Harry under the chin and earning a dimpled grin from him. "This is the start of something beautiful, you know. And I am so honoured that it's happening right here in my flat!"

Harry had to admire Niall's optimism.

"This is all down to you, to be honest," Nick chimed up, speaking for the first time. "We wouldn't have been able to get this far if you hadn't stepped in, so thank you."

Harry nudged against Nick's side, and felt Nick's hand press to the small of his back, both comforting each other silently.

Niall smiled bashfully. "Ahh, well, I do what I can! Here, do you want to come through to my room, just to talk things over? It'll be quieter in there."

"Sure," Harry agreed easily. He slipped his hand into Nick's again as they walked through the groups of people clustered around Niall's apartment, before being led down a small hallway.

"This is my room," Niall said, once they'd reached the end of the hallway. He hip-bumped the door open. "It's not much but it's all I have at the moment."

He ushered Nick and Harry through and shut the door behind them.

"See, it's already quieter, too!" Niall pointed out, and he was right; the sounds of the party were definitely a little more muffled in the bedroom, more noise coming in through the open window than the party itself. "Take a seat, lads, make yourself comfortable!" Niall said, before dropping down on top of the bed and patting the duvet beside him.

Nick and Harry exchanged a slightly bemused glance and then followed his lead, perching on the end of the bed.

"So, how are you feeling?" Niall asked, taking a sip of his drink. "Nervous? Excited? Scared?"

"Yes," Nick deadpanned, and the room melted into laughter, the tension splitting for a moment.

"It'll be fine, lad," Niall reassured him. "Louis is totally cool, with like everything. He's really laid back. He knows about the both of you, by the way, I don't know how much you're aware of - "

"We weren't sure," Harry said, placing his hand on Nick's knee. He could feel the tension radiating off of him, and it was unnerving to Harry. "Like, obviously I've met Louis before but yeah, Nick and Louis have never crossed paths, so they don't know anything about each other."

"Well," Niall said, and then coughed, taking a sip of his drink. Harry tilted his head, watching him curiously. "Well, no, he knows _of_ Nick. Like, you're kind of famous, mate," Niall commented. "I don't know if you remember actually, but you gave our diner a shout out on your show once, and that's because I _always_ used to have your show - your night time show, that is - playing in the staff room of an evening!"

Harry glanced at Nick, and was relieved to see that he didn't look freaked out by this news; a little confused, maybe, but not in a bad way.

When Nick didn't respond, Niall continued. "So, yeah, Louis knows who you are. I guess it just kind of sucks that you don't know who _he_ is. I probably have a picture on my phone, though, actually." Niall shifted, pulling his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans, eyes lighting up when he unlocked it. "Oh, he's just texted. He's nearly here!"

"Oh god," Nick muttered instantly, and Harry's own stomach rolled with nerves. He tightened his grip on Nick's leg.

Niall's eyes snapped up to the two of them. "Oh no, no, please don't be nervous! Honestly, lads, Louis is so lovely. Nothing bad is going to happen!" His gaze dipped back down to his phone as he tapped around on it for a few moments. "Here," he said, holding the phone out towards them. "This is Lou."

Harry glanced down to look as well, and was unable to stop the smile creeping onto his face at the photo. On the phone screen there was a selfie of Niall and Louis together, both with their tongues sticking out. Niall had sunglasses on, but Louis' eyes were uncovered, showing off the pale blueness of them perfectly. Harry's thoughts flashed back to the note he'd left for Louis the night he'd realised they were soulmates, calling him blue eyes even then. Louis' eye colour was one of the first things Harry had noticed about him in person, and one of the first things Harry noticed about the photograph; he wondered if Nick saw the same. Louis' hair looked a little windswept in the photo, and there was a light dusting of stubble over his jaw, which Harry had never seen in person. He looked happy in the picture even though he wasn't actually smiling.

Harry looked across at Nick, who was taking in the picture in front of him, his expression unreadable. As Harry looked back at the phone, a notification popped up along the top from 'Tommo'. _Let me in Irish._

Harry's eyes widened and Nick coughed beside him. "Um, you have a text," Nick said, voice rough, and Niall took the phone back, beaming down at the message.

"Excellent!" He jumped to his feet, and was already at the door when he paused, looking back at Nick and Harry on his bed. "What do you guys want to do? I mean, you're more than welcome to stay in here and I can get Louis to come in and see you, or you can come and join the party if you want to? It's completely up to you, really."

Harry chose not to answer - and not just because the sudden intense nerves he felt were preventing him from doing so - and looked across at Nick for him to decide instead.

"Let's - um - " Nick cleared his throat. "Let's go and get another drink, yeah, Haz?"

"Sure. Give us a minute?” Harry said, directing the last part to Niall, who shot him a thumbs up and then left the room, the door clicking shut quietly behind him.

"No," Nick said, when they were alone. "I meant we'd go out there, Harry. It's fine. Come on."

Nick got to his feet, but Harry put a hand on his wrist to stop him, pulling him back down so he was effectively straddling Harry's waist. Harry hugged him close, pressing kisses to his collarbones, and rubbing his hands along his back. He felt some of the tension leave Nick's body and he sighed happily in response.

"And _I_ meant we'd go out there in a minute," Harry said quietly. "You need to relax."

Harry angled his head up to kiss the underside of Nick's jaw, nipping a little until he got Nick's attention. Nick tilted his head down and their mouths joined in a gentle kiss; it was like they were having their own silent conversation there and then. Any words that needed to be said were being passed that way, and Harry could literally feel both of their bodies relaxing into each other.

He pulled back and pressed a firm kiss to Nick's cheek, his hand smoothing over the hair at the nape of Nick's neck.

"Okay? Are you ready?" Harry questioned quietly, leaning back as far as he could, so he was able to see Nick's face.

When Nick looked up to meet his gaze, Harry's eyes crinkled at the expression on his face, his own lips tilting up to mirror Nick's smile.

"I'm ready," Nick breathed, and he looked more confident than he had done all evening - all _week,_ really. He looked like the Nick Harry had first met, the Nick Harry had grown used to.

Harry's hands slid down to Nick's waist and Nick manoeuvred himself up from Harry's lap, holding his hand out for Harry to take. When they were stood facing each other, Nick reached out for Harry's face and wiped gently at the corner of his eye.

"Your mascara smudged," Nick murmured, at Harry's questioning look. He held out his thumb for Harry to see the black remnants on his skin.

"Oh god," Harry moaned. "Is there a mirror?" He turned, looking around the small room but Nick pulled him back round to face him.

"Stop. You look fine, it's gone now. You look good, I promise." He pressed a kiss to Harry's lips, slow and reassuring.

Harry let out a long exhale and nodded.

"Hey, you look more nervous than me now!" Nick commented, and Harry gave a small shaky laugh.

"Come on, we need to get out there otherwise we're going to be in here all evening just trying to psych ourselves up!" Harry said, striding purposefully to the door. "Do we hold hands or - ?" Harry asked, a little uncertain, and Nick rolled his eyes as he grabbed hold of Harry's hand.

"Come on, Harold," Nick said, leading Harry gently down the hall.

Harry's legs went a bit wobbly the nearer they got to the sounds of the party, and he guessed that Nick could tell by the way his grip tightened on Harry's hand, anchoring him there. Harry squeezed back gratefully, and then felt his heart skip a beat as they entered the open plan area of the apartment. His eyes skimmed quickly over the groups of people, trying to spot Louis. He found himself looking for a flash of green thanks to the photo Niall had just shown them.

He startled when Nick leaned down to speak into his ear. "I just realised I was looking for a green jacket. Like that's the _only_ thing Louis would ever wear."

Harry frowned, twisting to stare up at Nick in bemusement.

"What?" Nick laughed. "I know he wouldn't, I'm just saying - "

"No!" Harry interrupted, shaking his head. "I was honestly doing the same thing!"

Nick's eyes crinkled and then they were both giggling, Harry hiding his face in Nick's neck and Nick's hands gripping onto his back, both shaking with laughter.

"Oi-oi!" A very familiar voice nearby shocked Harry, and his eyes flew open.

He looked over Nick's shoulder to see that Niall and _Louis_ were stood right there in front of him. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of Louis after what felt like so long.

Harry stepped back away from Nick, and Nick's laughter died on his lips as he took in the expression on Harry's face. Harry was already moving towards Louis when Nick turned to face him so Harry didn't get the chance to see what sort of expression was on Nick's face.

Harry had a brief moment to feel guilty when he saw that Louis' eyes were trained on him, alone, but he stepped forward into Louis' arms anyway, and the two of them embraced right there in the middle of the room, their hearts beating furiously against each others' where their bodies were pressed tightly together.

It was like the party around them had melted away entirely, leaving just Harry and Louis wrapped up in their little bubble. Harry could only focus on the strength of Louis' arms around him, the warmth of Louis' body wrapped up in his own arms. He could smell what must have been Louis' shampoo as his soft hair tickled Harry's cheek, and he could hear Louis breathing close to his ear.

Harry sighed with complete contentment. He had been waiting for so long to be this close to Louis and now that it was actually happening he did not want the moment to end. He was desperate to hold onto that feeling of comfort and safety for the rest of the night, at the very least. But it was not to be, as the glass that abruptly shattered at his feet also shattered the moment.

They both jumped, letting go of each other. Harry looked down at his feet, and could see the liquid seeping into his boot, the shards of glass twinkling on the ground.

"Sorry," he heard a voice slur as the owner of the broken glass stumbled away from them - probably to try and find some more alcohol.

Harry turned his attention back to Louis, who was already looking at Harry, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. They stared at each other in slight shock for a moment until Louis released his bottom lip, a coy smile taking up his face. Harry cocked his head at Louis, frowning slightly.

"Well, that was just rude," Louis snorted, and Harry huffed out an agreement. "I really can't stand people who can't control their liquids."

Louis barely got the words out before he burst out into laughter, bending double to the point where Harry couldn't even see his face. Harry's frown deepened with confusion - was Louis really _that_ drunk?  

Harry registered the sound of Nick snorting behind him, muttering something about filthy innuendos, and Harry turned to look at him. He was hit by another pang of guilt when he realised he hadn't even thought about Nick while he had been hugging Louis, and he quickly reached out his hand for Nick to take. Nick stepped up next to him and Harry turned back to face Louis.

"Um, yeah, I guess it's a little annoying," Harry offered up weakly, not entirely sure what they were even talking about. Apparently it was something absolutely hilarious, though, seeing as Louis still hadn't straightened up or stopped laughing.

Louis eventually managed to get himself in check and stood up properly. He wiped at his eyes before looking at Harry with raised eyebrows.

Harry really got the idea that he was missing something, and shook his head slightly to indicate that he was feeling a little lost.

Louis sighed and - still with a smile on his face - dragged his gaze down Harry's body to his leg. Harry was watching Louis so carefully that he very easily spotted when Louis' smile faltered slightly as his gaze fell on Harry's hand joined with Nick's. Harry wondered briefly if Nick had noticed anything but then Louis was clearing his throat and reaching forward to touch his own hand to Harry's thigh.

Harry tensed up automatically, suddenly wanting to push Louis' hand away, but he forced himself to let it slide.

"So, how is the burn?" Louis asked slyly, far too innocent sounding to be genuine. His voice sounded a little off to Harry, but then maybe Harry was projecting his own emotions there.

"The b - ?" Harry began, and then it clicked into place. "Oh my god!"

A loud laugh exploded out of him and he quickly slapped his free hand to his mouth as he felt various strange looks landing on him from around the room. His shoulders shook as he laughed, and Louis laughed right along with him.

Harry realised Louis was saying something, and leaned in closer to try and hear him over the sounds of the party still going on around them. He vaguely registered Nick squeezing his hand tighter as he did so, as though reminding him that he was there.

"Yeah, maybe we should go somewhere a little bit quieter," Louis said, now that Harry was within earshot. "I mean I can only thank Niall for all of this but it probably wasn't the most practical idea."

Harry smiled. "We were in his bedroom before. I don't think he'd mind us going back again?"

"Well, that's something I'll have to talk to Niall about later," Louis said, a mock-outraged expression on his face for a moment before his facade slipped and he broke out into a grin. "Yeah, let's go. Is that alright with you, mate?" Louis asked, looking past Harry and addressing Nick for the first time.

This time Harry squeezed Nick's hand reassuringly and watched with butterflies building up in his stomach as Louis and Nick moved towards each other and briefly hugged, only one-armed as Nick refused to let go of Harry's hand.

"Yep, that's fine with me," Nick agreed once they'd separated. "Shall we, then?"

They made their way through the small flat, Louis grabbing a glass from the kitchen counter on his way past, and then they were back in the slightly quieter hallway. As they neared Niall's bedroom, Harry could feel his nerves mounting again, threatening to replace the overwhelming excitement that he'd felt before.

Louis didn't seem to feel those nerves, though, as once they entered Niall's room he flopped down onto Niall's bed in pretty much exactly the same position Niall had been in before. It was as though Louis owned the place, and Harry had to admire that confidence.

~~~

Louis looked across at the pair in front of him and was pleased, in a strange sort of way, to see that they appeared to be doing a much worse job at hiding their nerves than he was. Louis felt like he was giving off the impression that he was in control, by acting completely cool, calm, and collected, as though none of this phased him. But even though Nick and Harry had the advantage of already being together, and should really have had the upper hand because of this, they were actually both struggling, and were handling their nerves in very different ways.

Nick was tensed up, completely still; Louis didn’t actually think he'd moved a muscle since they'd all entered the bedroom together. He also seemed to be finding it difficult to meet Louis' eyes - even when they had spoken briefly earlier, he hadn't looked directly at Louis. Nick was the complete opposite to the person Louis had been expecting to meet that night, judging by the bubbly radio persona Louis had listened to before.

Harry, on the other hand, could not keep still, seemingly compensating for Nick's inactivity by going to the other extreme. Louis had noticed the hair touching before so this was nothing new, but the incessant tapping of Harry's free hand against his leg was, and Louis didn't know if this was just another habit or if it was Harry's way of dealing with the situation. Either way, it was clear to see that they were both uncomfortable, and it was almost amusing to Louis that he had brought that out in them.

What did they have to be nervous for, after all? It was _Louis_ who was there on his own, _Louis_ who was being thrown into a new and scary situation that he had absolutely no idea how to deal with -

But Louis wasn't going to let his thoughts spiral too far. He _was_ feeling good, maybe not as completely confident as he was coming across as, but he was okay. He wasn't going to start over thinking; he knew that had been his downfall in the past, that night in the diner being the obvious example, and he wasn't going to let that happen again.

He sipped his drink and watched over the rim of the glass as Harry fixed his hair yet again, running his hand through the bulk of it before touching the springy curls at the end. Louis wanted to tell him that his hair looked absolutely fine already, but he didn't know if Harry would take it as a joke or not. Louis didn't want to offend him, and when Harry's tapping resumed on his leg a second later, Louis knew he was right not to comment.

Still, Louis knew that he needed to say _something._ The silence had dragged on for way too long, and Louis was well aware it had ticked past the point of awkwardness some time ago. Neither of the others were making any move to speak, so Louis knew it had to be him. He drained the rest of his drink and turned to put the glass down on Niall's bedside table, the sound of the glass connecting with the wood making Nick and Harry both jump. Harry's eyes flicked over to the glass, while Nick's remained trained on the oh-so-fascinating bedspread beneath him.

"Alright there, Harry?" Louis asked softly, humour in his voice, and he quirked an eyebrow at Harry in question when Harry's startled gaze zipped across Louis.

His eyes were too wide. Louis had never seen Harry truly nervous before. He'd seen him distraught, and could still remember what that expression looked like on Harry, though he hoped he would never see it in person again, but nervous Harry was something else.

Louis tried for a soft smile, attempting to be reassuring. He tried not to feel bitter that in an ideal world, the two of them would have been reassuring _him._

"I've finished my drink," Louis ploughed on, when Harry failed to respond. "I'm just going to go and grab another. Let me bring you both something back as well, yeah? I think we could all do with a few drinks tonight," Louis said, offering an olive branch.

"That would be great, thanks, Lou," Harry said, speaking for the first time since they'd entered the bedroom. His hand swept through his hair again. "Let's go and see what Niall's got."

Harry rose up to his feet, but Louis was quick to decline.

"No, no, I've got it. You stay in here. I won't be gone long," Louis assured him, already beginning to leave the room. "I'll grab whatever I can find."

Louis wanted to give Harry and Nick the chance to talk without him in there with them, listening in, and truthfully he just wanted a moment outside of that room to calm himself down a little bit. He wanted to try and work out what he was going to do or say, away from the constant reminder of what they were all actually there for.

Louis grabbed a couple of drinks from the counter in the kitchen and dodged Niall when he tried to corner him in the living area; there was nothing Louis could report yet and he just wanted to get back inside that room.

Once he reached the bedroom door, Louis paused, listening for any sounds of movement from inside the room but he still heard nothing. He didn't know if he had it in him to walk back into that awkward situation.

He took a moment to think. As if he needed to do any more thinking.

Louis had suddenly realised that he didn't even _know_ if Nick was Louis' soulmate, and vice versa. Louis knew that _Harry_ was his, sure, but that didn't automatically mean that all three of them were joined together, did it? For all Louis knew, it was supposed to be himself with Harry, and Harry with Nick at the same time. How had it got to this point, with all of them meeting, and Louis still didn't even _know_ for sure what was going on?

He wondered if the others knew, and decided in a moment of outrage that it just wasn't fair if they did. If they had this upper hand over Louis and hadn't even bothered to tell him, that wasn't right.

A moment of impulse and lack of a better plan led to Louis doing the first thing he could think of, which was firmly pinching an area of skin on his arm suddenly and refusing to let go until he was sure the skin had reddened up between his fingers.

Even as Louis pushed the door to the bedroom open, Louis heard Harry gasp out loud. So that was Harry confirmed, then. Not what Louis was aiming for.

"Shit, are you alright?" Nick hissed. "What did you do?"

They hadn't noticed Louis standing in the doorway yet; Harry's head was bent down and Nick had his back to the door. But they were both rubbing at their arms. At Nick's question, Harry lifted his head and his eyes fell immediately on Louis over Nick's shoulder.

"Please tell me that was you, and there isn't another one,"Harry said, deadpan, and Nick spun around, eyes wide to face Louis as well.

In lieu of an answer, Louis shrugged sheepishly, holding out his arm to show them the pink mark on his skin.

"What the hell was that for?" Nick asked, incredulous. _Oh, so he's woken up now, has he?_ Louis thought.

"I wanted to make sure we were all in it together," Louis said, nonchalant, moving into the room and dumping all but one of the cans of alcohol onto the bed in front of Nick and Harry.

"But we all knew!" Harry said, looking across at Louis as he lowered himself onto the bed.

"Yeah, well…" Louis busied himself with uncapping his drink, at the same time as Nick reached for his own. He didn't want to admit his doubts about Nick, thought that would be a little bit awkward in hindsight. "It broke the ice, didn't it?"

The other two agreed, huffing out amused noises that quickly evolved into full blown laughter that blew any remaining tension out of the window.

Well, there was Louis' confirmation. He got what he wanted. Looking across at Harry and Nick, both open with humour - no masks now - Louis realised with a pang that he had also gotten _who_ he wanted, really.

"We should probably talk about this, shouldn't we?" Harry asked after a while, composing himself a little while reaching for his own drink and cracking it open.

"Probably," Louis conceded, taking a sip of his drink, and Nick nodded along gamely; the drink loosening them all up bit by bit.

"It's going to sound a bit counsellor-ish, but should we maybe take it in turns to see what each of us want out of this, how we're feeling and stuff?" Harry offered. "I mean, I don't know if either of you have any better ideas on how to do this?"

"That could work," Louis agreed. "I can start by saying I'm feeling very fucking nervous."

"And I'll drink to that!" Nick said, holding his drink up in the air, and they all laughed slightly awkwardly.

"I don't mind going first," Harry spoke up, all seriousness again, his expression intense. "If that's alright with both of you. I just kind of figured I, maybe, know both of you the most, if that makes sense? Like, I don’t know, maybe I have the advantage here a little bit." His voice trailed off at the end, and Nick reached a hand out to brush along Harry’s arm.

Louis smiled encouragingly across at him, a little taken aback by hearing his own earlier thoughts echoed back to him, and mentally apologised to Harry for doubting him before. He was surprised by how much of a similar wavelength they were apparently on.

"Yeah, you can go first. That definitely makes sense," Louis said sincerely, and he reached his foot out to bump it against Harry's thigh, wanting to have his own contact with him.

Harry smiled softly, his gaze dropping down to where Nick and Louis were both touching him. He took a long drink from his can - Louis could empathize - and then appeared to gather himself before beginning to speak.

"Okay," Harry sighed, sweeping his hair back with his free hand. "So, in case anyone doesn't know, I'm Harry Styles. Uh, my middle name is Edward. I'm twenty-two years old and my birthday is on the first of February. I work in a club in Shoreditch, and I live in a flat not too far away with my best friend and co-worker, Liam - who should be turning up at some point later, actually, so you can meet! - uh, but I’m from Holmes Chapel originally. Is there anything I've missed about myself?"

Louis hummed thoughtfully, while Nick huffed out a laugh.

"Very thorough," Nick remarked, and Harry elbowed him in the side in retaliation.

"No, I think you're good," Louis said, grinning as Harry returned to his drink. "So, should we each introduce ourselves like that or are you okay to keep talking?"

Harry shot Louis a grateful look. "Introduce yourself. Go on."

Louis coughed, suddenly feeling shy as both pairs of eyes landed on him. He mirrored Harry's earlier technique and took a nervous drink to stall for time.

"Well, I'm Louis William Tomlinson from Doncaster. God, this feels very formal," Louis chuckled, trying to mask his awkwardness with humour. "Um, I'm twenty-four and my birthday is on Christmas Eve, and I'm still trying to decide if that's a blessing or a curse - "

Before Louis could say anything else, Harry cooed excitedly. "That is so cool! I would definitely say that's a blessing!"

Louis chuckled. "It has its ups and downs," he agreed, nodding, and Harry grinned over at him, gestured for him to carry on speaking. "Um, yeah, I'm actually kind of between places at the moment? Like I moved back to Doncaster a while ago, but situations might have changed - and I don't just mean you two, don't worry - so I might be moving back to London soon. I'm an aspiring footballer, but I mean - big dreams…"

"Very big dreams," Nick said, but he didn't sound as though he was judging, and Louis was grateful for that.

"I think that's kind of it…" Louis trailed off, not wanting to reveal anything deeper than that, preferring to remain on the surface details like Harry had done.

"That's cool," Harry said, bumping his leg against Louis' foot; Louis was very appreciative of the physical contact in that moment. "We can talk about the deeper stuff later."

Once again, Louis was a little taken aback by their similar thought process. He genuinely wondered if he'd spoken aloud.

"Well, I guess that means it's your turn, then, Nick?" Louis said, looking across at the man in question.

Nick didn't take a drink before speaking; Louis admired that, strangely.

"I'm Nick Grimshaw, I'm not telling you my middle name because I don't like it and you're probably never going to need to use it. Yours are both so regal!" They all laughed. "I'm a little older than you both; I turned thirty-two last month, on the fourteenth of August." Harry's hand came to rest on top of Nick's, comforting. "Uh, yeah, I work as a DJ for Radio One - "

"Don't go on about it," Louis interrupted, and two pairs of eyes landed on him again, all of them laughing once they realised Louis wasn't being a dick. "I've definitely listened to your show before, mate," Louis assured him. "I know what your job is."

"Okay, cool," Nick grinned. "I'm kind of glad we don't have to go into that one."

"Oh, no, we'll go into that one soon. Save it for a rainy day," Louis winked, and Harry giggled while Nick rolled his eyes.

Louis was feeling more and more comfortable, especially now that Nick was opening up a little bit; the situation was feeling a lot less awkward with everyone actually speaking.

"Great," Nick muttered sarcastically. "I don't really know what else to say about myself, to be honest."

"Because you're so famous we already know it all," Louis snarked again, and Nick glared at him in mock-(Louis hoped)-outrage. Harry laughed beside him.

"I think you two are going to get on very well," Harry said, sounding very happy about this fact, and Louis relaxed a little. "It's probably like looking in a mirror."

"Absolutely not, I look nothing like him!" Louis protested, and caught Nick's murmur of, 'thankfully.', returning it quickly with a, "Please. You wish you looked like me."

"Alright, alright, put the claws away, please," Harry protested, eyes twinkling with amusement, and Nick shook his head, smiling.

"You're a good 'un, Louis," Nick commented, and Louis felt as though his body got ten times lighter with his words. These people got him. These were his people. Quite literally.

"You really are," Harry agreed softly, and Louis glanced across at him to see Harry already looking back at him with his surprisingly intense gaze.

Louis ducked his head shyly, fiddling with the can in his hand. He felt a flush rise to his cheeks, unbidden, and really hoped neither of them would notice it.

He coughed. "Thanks," he muttered. "You two are alright, too, aren't you?"

"Yeah, we're pretty great," Nick agreed easily, a smile in his voice, and Louis let out the breath he'd been holding, trying to relax again as Harry and Nick laughed softly.

"We've established that we're all good people," Harry spoke up. "Where do we go from here? What do we want to happen? Like, are we thinking - " Harry's voice trailed off to nothing and Louis looked up, confused. 

Harry and Nick were both watching him carefully and he felt his heart rise into his throat at the realisation that this was the moment. He reached for an unopened drink and dug into it quickly, trying to keep calm.

"Yeah, I guess it's kind of my turn to speak, isn't it?" Louis said. "Okay."

"Take your time," Harry assured him calmly, pressing his leg down onto Louis' foot again as though he could sense Louis' need for contact.

Louis took in another deep breath. "Um…" His hands were shaking _._ He balled them together, trying to hide them in his lap.

He had no idea how his next statement would affect anything. He was just beginning to feel comfortable with these people, beginning to accept that this was the way it was supposed to be; but for all Louis knew, his admittance would mess that all up before anything had even started. He had never really come out to anyone in his life before; no one had ever openly asked, and Louis had never had a specific reason to tell people. It wasn't like he was gay and bringing a boyfriend back home that he could come out to his family with. So Louis just kept it to himself. His mum sort of knew how he felt, but not really as an orientation. The way she saw it, Louis just didn't like dating, and that was that. She probably thought that Louis had always just been too focused on his football, or his work, to worry about any of that. That didn't really bother Louis, per se, because it wasn't as though she was trying to set him up with anyone, or anything like that. But it just meant he hadn't yet experienced coming out.

The only person he had ever spoken to about being aromantic (besides people on the internet that he owed his whole understanding of the word to) was Stan. He had told Stan on their last night in Doncaster before moving to London; it had been an emotional and very drunken night, and Louis had just felt as though the time was right. Stan had taken it all very well, but probably hadn't really understood what Louis was going on about; Louis had no idea if Stan even still remembered that conversation to this day, and they hadn't spoken about it since.

Louis had rehearsed how he _would_ announce his orientation, if the time ever came around. How could he not have done? But he had never prepared in any way for coming out to his _soulmate_ , or soulmates as the case was. He wasn't prepared enough for this moment, but the moment was here and he knew he had to say _something._

He cleared his throat, tried desperately to still his trembling hands. _Here goes nothing._

"So, I'm just going to say it. I - I don't want to be in a relationship with you, and I genuinely mean no offence by that," Louis couldn’t look up, didn't want to look at their expressions while he ploughed on. "It's just the way I am. It's just _who_ I am. I - uh -  I identify as something called aromantic, which basically means - " A sharp intake of breath stopped Louis in his tracks, and he looked up immediately. Harry was looking at him with wide eyes, but Nick was looking at Harry. Louis' eyes flicked between the two of them uncertainly. "Um, I'm really sorry. Like, you're both really lovely people, it's just-"

"No, no, don't try and justify yourself! God! No, that's absolutely fine, Lou!" Harry gushed, eyes still wide, but completely earnest and genuine as he gazed across at Louis. "So you just… you don't feel romantic attraction to people, is that what that is?"

Louis didn't know why he was still surprised that it had been that easy, he had already established their shared wavelength. But he was. He had never anticipated it would be that simple.

He nodded a little jerkily. "Never have. Possibly will one day, no idea," Louis stated, feeling a little more at ease now that the words were actually out there. He couldn't take them back now even if he wanted to; whatever happened next was in fate's hands and there was nothing Louis could do to change that, besides bolting from the room and never looking back. But Louis was surprised to realise that wasn't even a feasible option for him any more, especially considering the way Harry was looking at him in that moment.

"Lou," Harry breathed, and Louis smiled a little sheepishly, ducking his head again. "That's - was that the first time you've told someone?"

The question startled Louis and his head snapped up again. _That bloody wavelength._

"I - yeah. I mean, I've only said it out loud when I was much more drunk than this."

Nick huffed out a laugh and Harry smiled, a strange almost sad smile, but Louis didn't question it.

"That's amazing, Lou," Harry said, entirely sincere.

"Well, I don't know about that. It's kind of important, isn't it?" Louis said, raising his eyebrows, and letting out a long exhale. "Relevant, or whatever."

Harry's eyes shifted away from Louis' then, a frown appearing on his brow. Louis eyed him concernedly, but then Nick began talking and his attention was taken away.

"Glad you told us, Louis," he said. "I can tell that wasn't the easiest for you."

Louis smiled across at him gratefully. Maybe his and Nick's wavelength wasn’t _quite_ as great and impressive as his and Harry's was, but that was still touching. Louis appreciated it.

"But what does that, you know, _mean,_ for all of us?" Harry spoke up again; he now had his thumbnail caught between his teeth, which Louis assumed was another nervous habit. Louis gently reached across and took Harry's hand from his mouth, rubbed a thumb across his knuckles softly before withdrawing.

Harry was watching him carefully. Slowly and deliberately, Harry reached out and touched the tips of his fingers to Louis', curling around until they were _nearly_ holding hands, but not quite.

Louis squeezed briefly, and sighed. "I don't really know what it means," he said, and figured honesty was the best policy. "And when all of this first started - well, before I even knew the whole story, to be honest - I would not have even wanted to find out what it all means. I kind of ran away from everything before, quite literally. But now I'm here, and now _you're_ both here and I can see what great people you are, and I do actually want to find out. But, yeah, I'm not sure _how_ we do that."

"Well, isn't it kind of obvious that this is just how everything's  _supposed_ to be," Nick said. "I mean, it kind of works better that Louis doesn't want any romance from this, right?"

"How do you mean?" Harry asked, frowning.

"I mean, me and you, Harry, we're _together-_ together. You know, like in the romantic way?" Nick began.

Harry nodded briefly but his eyes flicked across to Louis instead of saying anything, probably wanting to see how Louis would react. He deliberately kept his face very impassive, casual. It's not as though that was new information, it wasn't a shock, as such.

"Right, and that isn't going to change, is it? Whether Louis wants in as well, or not," Nick continued, and then turned to address Louis. "And honestly I don't really know you well enough yet to say I want to automatically jump into any sort of relationship with you anyway. But we're friends, yeah? We can all be friends, and we can just wait to see what happens next. As long as we can all get along, that's more than okay, right?"

Louis smiled, he loved these people. They just _got_ it. They got him.

"Yeah, we just need to accept who we all are as people, how we all feel and think - however different each of our needs and wants are - and go with the flow," Harry said slowly, each word seemingly carefully thought out. "We are who we are and none of us are going to change, and none of us want each other _to_ change so we just need to accept the situation for what it is. Which is a beautiful thing."

Louis felt himself getting a little bit emotional at Harry's words, he had been waiting far too long to hear that sort of thing from someone in his life. And now this wonderful boy who Louis had _always_ liked was saying them to him. How had Louis got _that_ lucky?

"Hear, hear," Nick said, knocking his can against Harry's gently, and smiling at Louis. He seemed to get the gravity of the situation, wasn't cracking any jokes.

Before Louis could say anything in response - which probably would have just consisted of Louis gushing over how incredibly grateful he was that he had found these people - there was a timid knock on the door. As a unit - Louis got chills a little bit - they all turned and called out, "We're busy!", and then there was a moment of stunned silence before they all dissolved into laughter again, Harry leaning on Nick heavily. Louis swiped Harry's drink from him to prevent any spillages.

"You are the _greatest_ people," Louis said sincerely when the giggles had died down. He didn’t know what else to say, couldn't quite put it into words. "But don’t let Niall hear me say that, okay?"

Harry grinned across at him, dimples out in full force, and Nick assured Louis he wouldn't breathe a word.

"So, do you have any boundaries we should know about, Lou?" Nick asked softly, but Louis was done with the deep conversations. He didn't need them any more. Yeah, logically he knew they'd need to come around at some point, but not right then.

"This is all getting a bit heavy, lads. I thought this was supposed to be a party!" Louis smiled to show that there was no venom behind his words. "Why don't we all get out there and just enjoy ourselves, yeah?" Louis laughed, pulling Harry up behind him with their joined hands without waiting for a response.

"Oh, are we done talking, then?" Harry asked, but he was giggling at the same time.

"Yeah," Louis grinned, pulling Harry along easily. "It is what it is, right?"

"That was definitely a much more succinct way to put what I was trying to say," Harry laughed.

"It is what it is," Nick echoed. "I like that."

"Me, too," Harry agreed quietly, and suddenly Louis was being pulled into a tight embrace.

He wasn't sure who had initiated the hug but Louis found himself caught up in between the two people who had been near-strangers just a few hours ago, and the two people who from then on would mean so much to Louis. He could feel it. The hug felt safe, comforting. It felt right.

Louis held on tightly, relishing in the feeling of being wanted, of being _accepted,_ and he felt the grips around him tighten in response. He could feel himself getting a little too choked up and pulled away gently to fight off any emotion, but nearly lost his composure entirely when he saw the impossibly soft expressions on both Nick and Harry's faces.

"Glad you're okay, Lou," Harry said, oh-so-quietly, and Nick murmured his assent.

Louis smiled up at them - damn them for _both_ being taller than Louis, surely that wasn't fair - before ducking his head shyly, and reaching for the door so he wouldn't have to say anything else.

He felt Nick and Harry moving up behind him and they all emerged into the hallway together. The sounds of the party rushed at them immediately; still going in full force.

The three of them reached the main area of the party a few seconds later, and Louis pretty much instantly caught Niall's eye from across the room. Niall was clearly pleased with whatever expression he saw on Louis' face because he grinned before turning away to continue talking to someone else.

Nick quietly excused himself to head off to the loo, and Louis and Harry found a vacant space within the room to stand together. They hadn't been standing there for very long at all when the upbeat track suddenly transitioned into Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer. Various groans echoed around the room, and Louis rolled his eyes, but then caught sight of Harry's eager expression, eyes wide and twinkling down at Louis.

"Shall we?" Harry offered quietly, leaning in, and Louis turned his head as casually as he could.

"I - uh - I'm aro, babe, remember. I don't really want to jump straight into that. Maybe one day, but you know we're not, like, together yet, or maybe at all, yeah?" Louis babbled, words tumbling over each other.

"Friends can kiss, though," Harry pushed, but he wasn't being aggressive about it and had already pulled back out of Louis' personal space, so Louis didn't take offence. He realised that there was probably going to be lots of conversations like this in their future.

"Yeah, of course they can. Of course _we_ can, at some point. But if you think about it for a minute, Haz, for _us_ it's a little bit different to be kissing, isn't it? Because of what it means…" Louis explained, tailing off at the end and hoping Harry would understand what Louis was getting at.

Louis saw in Harry's expression the moment it clicked.

"I didn't even think of it like that!" Harry said quickly, and Louis found that he genuinely believed him. "I just wanted to be, like, closer to you. I didn't even realise we'd - you know - just like that."

"Yeah, exactly," Louis laughed. “But... before you start planning some huge gesture for when - if, _when,_ whatever! - we do kiss and make it all official, the soulmate stuff, I don't want that either. It'll just happen when it happens, yeah?"

"It is what it is," Harry said softly, and Louis grinned, echoing the statement back to him.

"It'll happen naturally, when we're both ready," Louis said.

"And that's not right now," Harry finished. It wasn't a question.

"Not right now," Louis agreed, glad Harry got it. "Look, Nick's back," he said, catching sight of him over Harry's shoulder, and Harry twisted round to watch Nick approaching. He turned back to face Louis with a look of uncertainty on his face. "Go and kiss your boyfriend, love; go on! The song will be over soon!"

"But you're part of this too, Lou, I don't want you to feel awkward, or left out -" Harry began.

"Harry, I can't tell you that I'm ever going to want to be your _boyfriend_ , okay?" Louis interrupted gently. "What you and Nick have is probably always going to be at least a little bit different to what me and you have, and to what me and Nick have, as well. You know, we're all a unit in some way, we _are_ together, just not in the stereotypical way. But that's okay; it doesn't all have to be the exact same. Our relationship - however that's going to be defined - is going to be so much more interesting than anyone else's!"

Harry smiled, took a deep breath, and then nodded decisively. "Can I give you a hug?"

"Please do," Louis said, spreading his arms wide for Harry to step into and holding onto him tightly, reassuring him without words that they were still _good_.

Ironically, as Harry stepped back from the embrace and turned to walk quickly towards Nick, Louis was suddenly desperate to lean up and kiss him. He wanted the closeness Harry had talked about, despite the heavy meaning behind it, but he knew he had to stand by what he'd said before. He didn't want to be giving out mixed messages, was well aware that this would all probably be confusing enough without him going back on his word randomly.

He watched as Nick and Harry kissed. Nick drew Harry in with a hand at the small of his back and Harry wound his arms around Nick's shoulders. Their bodies were pressed tight together and they both looked so _happy._ Louis did feel a little bit jealous, however irrational that was.

After a few seconds, the two of them broke apart, and Harry turned immediately to face Louis. He approached him with a grin on his face and Louis could do nothing but draw him in for another hug, which Nick soon joined in on. They stood like that for the rest of the song, all wrapped up together.

It felt good. It felt like coming home.

~~~

Nick was feeling quite out of his depth. He was a good few years older than most of the people in the flat surrounding him, which probably wasn't helping anything, but Nick's unease was due to more than just that.

He'd had a rollercoaster of an evening, and was honestly very ready for bed. All in all, the past few _weeks_ of Nick's life had been completely different to anything he had ever known before: a huge career shift which meant lots of new and unexpected opportunities for Nick, not to mention the added income he suddenly had access to, meeting Harry and developing their relationship together, finding out about a third person, doing lots of research into that situation. It had been non-stop for the longest time. Now here Nick was, actually _meeting_ said third person inside the flat of someone he barely even knew at all.

For most of the evening, Harry had remained pressed to Nick's side, probably sensing Nick's discomfort. It had been a constant reminder that Harry was there, and whether they were actually touching and feeling physical contact, or simply feeling the warmth coming off of each other, it had been very reassuring.

However, a while ago, Liam had turned up at the party - someone who Nick knew a little bit better than anyone else in the room thanks to hanging out at Harry's flat on a pretty regular basis, but still not enough to go and start a conversation - and Harry had run off to go and presumably fill Liam in on everything that had happened.

Nick supposed there was a lot to fill him in on, so he could accept Harry's lengthy disappearance, but it didn't make it any easier to actually deal with. Nick still had Louis nearby, but he was deep in discussion with Niall, and Nick couldn't really blame Louis for not automatically including Nick in their conversation, either.

Nick was flailing a little bit, feeling a little lost, but suddenly Harry caught his eye across the room and shot him the biggest, beaming smile Nick had ever seen. Nick shot Harry a matching grin, and Harry responded by sticking his tongue out before returning to his conversation with Liam. 

Suddenly all of the waiting, and the awkwardness, the nerves, and the anticipation were all worth it, just to see Harry that happy. Harry deserved it, and Nick was sure that he would get used to everything eventually. It just might take a little time.

Fortunately, it seemed as though time was firmly on Nick's side. That, coupled with fate, or destiny, or whatever it was that had brought these boys into Nick's life, was making Nick feel like one very lucky man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that you can watch the trailer for this fic here if you want to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GcDf6r9fn3M (but be aware of minor spoilers if that would bother you!)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** Warning for this chapter: brief non-graphic smut (I am not good at smut, I am a simple ace, I'm sorry!), I guess also warnings for slight cheating, but not really at the same time (just be safe!) ***

For Harry, getting to know Louis was a completely different experience than the one Harry had shared with Nick when they first got together. He might have thought Louis and Nick were very similar people - and that was still true to a certain extent - but they also had a lot of different assets and interests.

Harry liked it; it kept things interesting. Well, even more interesting than their trinity already was, which was really saying something. It was just another reminder of how unique their unit was; even though the two situations were definitely comparable, and the end-goals were practically the same, the approach couldn't really have been much more different.

Even going back as early as their first official meeting, Nick and Harry's had been in a diner, where they had sat and talked quietly for hours and hours, whereas with Louis it had taken place in the middle of a crowded and quite noisy house party, meaning conversation had to be kept a little more brief. 

The time spent together since then was completely contrasting, as well. Nick and Harry had been kind of limited to how often they were able to hang out with each other, especially when Harry had gone back to work. Nick's schedule had meant that he was always up and out of the house before Harry even woke up in the morning, and Harry's schedule meant that  _ he  _ was up and out of the house before Nick settled into bed at night. However, Louis was usually free during the daytime and that meant Harry met up with Louis a lot more than he had been able to with Nick when they were starting out.

Harry's very first outing with Nick had been a pretty quiet meal out followed by the two of them traipsing around Waitrose. Very domestic, very cosy. However, Louis and Harry's first date was spent physically apart, with Louis down on the pitch, and Harry experiencing his first live football match from the stands. He was soaked to the skin and freezing cold, but somehow happier than he'd felt in a long time, watching Louis doing what he loved to do. Ironically when it had been Nick's turn to go and watch Louis play football, it had been a lovely and perfectly sunny day; life was unfair, but Harry wasn't bitter. The rest of their days together followed a similar pattern of compare and contrast. Harry and Nick had spent an evening curled up together on the sofa, watching The Simpsons and eating junk food, while Louis treated Harry to a posh meal out - although, he'd shyly admitted at the end of the night that he'd only been able to afford it thanks to the two-for-one offer in the paper that week. Harry and Nick had sung the night away at a karaoke bar, screaming their favourite songs in a tiny booth for hours, but Harry and Louis had chosen to share their appreciation of music at the free festival in the park (although they still sang along at the top of their lungs, some things never changed). Nick had introduced Harry to his friends one sunny afternoon where they had all sat in the park, and Harry had been introduced to the majority of Louis' friends at the aforementioned very crowded party.

Of course Harry wasn't able to spend all of his time hanging out with his favourite people, but he was very happy with the knowledge that when he was off at work, Louis and Nick were keeping each other company - whether that was over text, or in person - and doing their own bonding between the two of them. It was very rare that the three of them were all free to hang out with each other at the same time - they had actually only done so twice, one of those times being their first meeting at Niall's party, the other celebrating Niall's birthday two days later - but Harry was very excited for the day they would be able to do that regularly. He was so ready to find out how they would develop as a complete unit as well as in their individual pairings.

He knew the time would come for them all to progress together, and he just needed to be patient.

Something else he needed to be patient for was that perfect moment to come out to Louis. Harry wasn't quite sure why he hadn't done so yet, but pegged it down to the fact that there simply hadn't been an easy opening like the one he'd had with Nick. If Harry was to come out to Louis completely out of the blue he felt as though he would be making a bigger deal out of things than necessary. He'd actually had a very in-depth conversation with Nick recently about the group's dynamics, Nick's feelings, Harry's asexuality and the pros and cons of coming out to Louis, but it had all basically concluded with Nick telling him to just talk to Louis about it whenever the time felt right and not to stress about anything, and Harry was more than happy to follow that advice.

He knew the time would come, he just needed to exercise his patience.

~~~

The sharp whistle on the television may have been signalling to the players on the screen that it was halftime, but for Louis it also acted as a green light for him to get up and do all the things he had been holding off on for the past forty-five minutes.

The first item on his list was a trip to the bathroom, which Louis hadn't actually used since he had arrived at Nick's flat earlier that day. He walked down the small hallway to use Nick's en-suite, intending to have a little innocent snoop at the bedroom while he was there. His desperation for a wee meant that the investigating would have to wait, though, and he hurried through the small bedroom to push the door to the en-suite open. While Louis peed, he looked around the grander-than-expected room, taking in the sparse decorations - who kept  _ records  _ in the bathroom? - and eyeing the various body washes and lotions lined up in the shower. Nicholas Grimshaw was the king of moisturizing apparently.

Louis washed his hands, rolling his eyes at the unnecessarily expensive hand wash he was faced with, and then dried his hands on a towel that also probably cost far too much money before wandering leisurely back into Nick's bedroom, flicking the bathroom light off as he went. 

He struggled to focus his slightly hazier than normal eyes as he looked around Nick's room. From his position at the en-suite door, he had a full view of the room and he was impressed by what he saw. A huge bed was definitely the focal point of the bedroom, taking up the majority of one wall, with lots of art hanging on the wall around it. There was a bedside table on either side of the bed,  but when Louis approached to examine further he saw that they were both pretty much empty of belongings. They both had a water bottle on them, and the one closest to Louis also housed an empty mug - which he considered washing up, but decided against it - and some more moisturizer, (Louis rolled his eyes at that discovery), while the bedside table furthest from Louis was home to a book, the title of which Louis had never heard of before, and quite randomly a handful of coins. Both of the bedside tables also had little drawers in them, but even in his not entirely sober state, Louis knew that he would be overstepping a mark if he was to open them.

He left the bedroom with one last glance back at the suddenly incredibly cosy-looking bed and walked back through to the living area where a quick glance at the television showed Louis that he had actually been gone for way longer than he'd thought. He quickly moved through to the kitchen, wobbling ever so slightly on his way; luckily there was no one there to notice or comment so Louis was winning. He pulled out another bottle of beer from the fridge and uncapped it before moving back to his place on the ridiculously comfortable sofa. Well, it was quite lucky, really, that the sofa was so cushy considering that it would be Louis' bed for the night.

While Louis absolutely loved living with Niall and couldn't have been more grateful for the fact that Niall was letting him stay in his flat in the first place, Niall did love to party. Even when he didn't have loads of people round crowding up the place, he would be blaring music, or even just watching a television show far too loud. When they had been working together, Louis had never realised how much of a party animal Niall actually was, and he wasn't sure if Niall had always been that way, leaving work and heading straight for a party, or if it had been a special occasion for Niall's birthday week. Either way, it had dragged on and on to the point where Louis was getting a little bit sick and tired - quite literally - of being kept up at night. He had mentioned this point completely c asually in passing one day to Nick, and he genuinely hadn't been angling for an invite but he had been given one anyway.

Nick had told Louis that his flat would definitely be quiet that Friday night because Harry would be working and Nick was off out with some colleagues to celebrate his first full month at his new job. Louis was sorely tempted by the promised peace and quiet so took Nick up on his offer without having to think for too long.

That brought Louis to where he was now; the football game had re-commenced on Nick's large screen TV, and his body was slowly sinking into the plush sofa while he sipped leisurely from his bottle of beer. Louis reckoned he could get used to this.

He must have dozed off at some point because the next thing he knew, he was startling upright, having heard a sound from the kitchen. His heart was beating irrationally hard in his chest as he peeked over the back of the sofa to see what the commotion was.

"Hey! You’re up," a slurred voice sang out, and Louis pushed himself the rest of the way up to a more dignified position. He craned his neck to see Nick leaning up against the entrance to the kitchen. "Good morning, sleeping beauty!"

Louis rolled his eyes. "Good morning, Nicholas."

"It's actually eleven at night, I just got in. I didn't mean to wake you, sorry about that," Nick explained, still slightly slurring his words.

"No worries," Louis assured him. "How was the big work do?"

"Good, good!" Nick smiled, waving his hand in the air expressively. What he was expressing, Louis wasn’t sure. "They  _ love  _ me, Louis."

"That's good," Louis nodded, humouring him. "I take it there was quite a bit of alcohol at this work do. Not very professional, is it?"

"Pffft," Nick made a derisive noise that made Louis laugh out loud, and Nick's expression crinkled into happiness at eliciting that reaction. "Just enough alcohol. Although, I could have another drink. Do you want something, love?"

"Yeah, go on, then. I may as well now you've woken me up and everything," Louis sighed, tucking his legs up underneath himself to make room for Nick to join him on the sofa.

"So have you just been helping yourself to my alcohol all night, Tomlinson?" Nick asked abruptly. "Don't think you're fooling me that you're entirely sober either."

"No!" Louis protested. "I  _ brought _ the alcohol - the bottles in there are mine, but feel free to have one - I've just been helping myself to your fridge to keep them cool." Logic.

Nick hummed disbelievingly and Louis heard the bottles clink together as Nick took them out, holding them both in one hand while he shut the fridge door behind him. He began to approach the sofa, wobbling noticeably on his feet. Louis felt very proud of the fact that  _ he  _ hadn't been wobbling nearly so much when he'd wandered around earlier. Louis: 1, Nicholas: 0.

"Here you are, my dear," Nick said grandly, handing Louis one of the bottles. Louis leaned forwards to grab the bottle opener from the table and by the time he'd sat back again, Nick had flopped down into the vacant space on the sofa.

Now he was closer, Louis could smell the alcohol already lingering on him, and considered telling Nick not to mix his drinks as he could  _ clearly  _ smell spirits.

"I'm a grown adult, Lewis," Nick said suddenly, and Louis stared at him in confusion.

"My name's Louis, and I know you are. What are you on about?" Louis asked.

Instead of answering, Nick leaned over and tried to grab hold of the bottle opener, catching Louis by surprise. He jolted as their fingertips brushed, and Nick cleared his throat, quickly snatching his hand away.

"I can handle my drinks perfectly well, thank you," Nick continued speaking as though nothing had happened, and Louis’ confusion deepened. Nick rolled his eyes, sighing. "Will you please give me the bottle opener, for god's sake. You spoke out loud, drunkie. You're obviously a lot  _ more  _ drunk than you let on."

"I'm not even drunk!" Louis protested. "I was only looking out for you." He grudgingly handed the bottle opener to Nick, deliberately brushing his fingertips across Nick's knee as he did so to see if he could make him react the same way as before. He succeeded, earning another startled cough from Nick.

Louis: 2, Nick: 0. Or something like that; Louis couldn't really keep count, he was getting a little heady from more than just the alcohol.

"Okay, well that's very touching. Thank you," Nick said, a little patronisingly, defensive.

Louis shrugged, tilting his head back to take a drink. He smirked when he straightened up again and saw Nick watching him, bottle opener poised at the neck of his bottle.

"Is there a problem?" Louis enquired innocently, slowly starting to tilt his head back again, lips parting, while still maintaining eye contact with Nick as best he could.

"No. No problem," Nick shot back, voice strained.

Louis' smirk grew as he took another drink, his head resting on the back of the sofa, neck elongated and throat exposed. He let his eyes flutter shut, not really caring if Nick was still watching his show or not, just revelling in the feeling of being wanted in that way. It had been a very long time.

Louis' performance would have continued but before he could take it any further Nick finally managed to put the bottle opener to use, and it wa s kind of difficult for Louis to continue acting provocatively whilst dripping with the ice cold beer that suddenly sprayed onto him as a result of this.

Louis sputtered a little embarrassingly as his eyes flew open in shock. He quickly sat upright, almost spilling his own drink in the process.

"What the hell was that?" Louis spat out, at the same time as Nick started babbling out apologies.

Neither Louis' anger nor Nick's remorse lasted very long as the two of them quickly dissolved into laughter at the ridiculous situation.

"Here, let me get something to clean that up," Nick said, already struggling up to his feet - the traitorous bottle still clutched in his hand.

Louis rolled his eyes as Nick stumbled away into the kitchen. 

"Just minding my own business trying to have a nice drink," Louis muttered and heard Nick cackle in response from the kitchen. "Why do you people have such a hard time controlling your liquids?" Louis continued as Nick re-entered the living area, clutching a handful of paper towels in his free hand.

At Louis' comment, Nick only laughed harder. "That's not the first time I've heard that," Nick said, approaching the sofa.

Louis snorted. "That's also not the sort of thing you want to be admitting to, Grimshaw."

It took a moment but then Nick's face dropped into a comically offended expression. "Watch your mouth, Tomlinson."

"I know you were," Louis snapped back, and it was Nick's turn to snort in response as he leant into Louis' personal space, brandishing the handful of paper towels.

However, he was also still clutching onto his bottle, and Louis moved quickly, snatching the bottle away from Nick before he could do any more damage. The two of them made long, silent, eye contact for a moment before Nick bent his head and started dabbing at the liquid that had already long-since seeped through Louis' shirt into his skin. Louis rolled his eyes and tipped his head back again to give Nick better access.

The more Nick dabbed at Louis' chest - no matter how generally un-sexy the situation was - the more Louis could feel his body reacting to the contact, and before too long, he pushed up into Nick's touch. Inevitably, Nick realised this pretty quickly and reacted by pressing his hand firmer into Louis' chest, sliding his other hand up to Louis' exposed throat.

Louis let out a short moan and pushed his throat up into Nick's palm, his veins thrumming with the pleasure rushing through his body. His hands were both occupied with gripping onto the bottles, having the presence of mind not to spill their contents all over Nick's sofa, but he so desperately wanted to just let them fall to the ground and grip onto Nick the same way Nick was gripping onto him.

It was almost as though Nick could read Louis' mind, though, because after attaching his palm more firmly around Louis' neck for a second, he pulled away almost entirely. He balanced himself with his hands on either side of Louis' legs on the sofa and leaned up over Louis. They were breathing hard, their chests heaving. Nick's gaze travelled down Louis' body in a long slow sweep that had Louis' toes curling and his grip tightening on the bottles in his hands.

Nick leaned in slowly, keeping his eyes on Louis' the entire time, and Louis felt his own breath quickening as their faces moved closer together.

Abruptly, it was as though Louis' mind went into overdrive, and he realised what he was about to do.

"Woah, woah, woah. What are you doing?" He garbled out, turning his head to the side to evade Nick's attempted kiss.

Nick's eyes widened and he straightened up, looking hurt. "I thought you wanted - "

"Yeah, yeah, I do," Louis interrupted impatiently. He  _ really  _ did. "But you can't kiss me you big drunk beanpole!"

Nick's mouth dropped open as it clicked into place. God, no. Yeah, okay."

"Good English," Louis murmured, taking the opportunity to lean forward and finally deposit the bottles on the table. As soon as they were safely out of harm's way, Louis reached for Nick, his hands gripping onto Nick's back, and he used his hold to pull Nick up on top of him as he fell back onto the sofa.

They gazed at each other for another long tense moment. It was very cliche but Louis had never actually noticed the colour of Nick's eyes before and he wasn't sure if it was their close proximity, the drink, or Louis' arousal that made him stop and stare then.

Louis gathered himself, let his gaze drop down to Nick's mouth before pulling his own bottom lip in between his teeth, and biting just hard enough to make a dent in his lip. He started to tilt his head back to bare his throat again - he knew how to work a man's weakness - but before he could get very far Nick let out something akin to a growl and crowded in closer to Louis. Before Louis could react, Nick tugged his head the rest of the way back using his grip on Louis' hair that Louis was pretty sure hadn't been there mere seconds ago.  

Nick started pressing kisses to his exposed neck and Louis let out a shocked half-gasp, half-moan, feeling his body go loose and pliant underneath Nick's. His fingers tightened on Nick's shirt and he ground up against Nick, trying to find some sort of friction.

Nick pulled away then, and gently guided Louis' head back up. Louis met his gaze impatiently, wondering why on earth Nick would have stopped right then.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Nick asked, and Louis couldn't even stop himself from rolling his eyes.

"Obviously. Come on. You're so slow," Louis groaned out, bucking his hips up again.

Nick let out a short laugh, and pressed a kiss to Louis' chest through his shirt before abruptly pulling back -  _ again,  _ what was wrong with the man? - with a grimace.

"What the hell is wrong now?" Louis bit out.

"You just taste of beer," Nick said, plucking at the damp material of Louis' shirt.

"'So let me get you out of these wet clothes,'" Louis finished, mocking, as he shoved Nick away from him to tug his shirt off over his head, throwing it on the floor behind the sofa. "Get on with it."

Nick simply stared at Louis, and if Louis deliberately stretched his torso out a little, trying to show off the effects of his excessive active lifestyle from the past few weeks, well, no one needed to know that. Louis  _ knew _ how to play the game. Nick eventually seemed to shake himself out of his daze and his eyes flicked back up to Louis' face. Louis tilted his head questioningly at him, biting at his lip again.

Their eyes met for a long moment, almost as though they were having a silent and slightly annoying conversation, before finally - blessedly - Nick sprung into action. 

Louis' breathing eventually settled back to normal and he shifted on the sofa. Everything was very warm and sweaty and damp, despite the fact that Nick had halfheartedly wiped them both off with the kitchen towels. Admittedly, those kitchen towels had also been used to wipe up the spilled beer earlier so it probably hadn't been the smartest idea. Louis had absolutely no idea how much time had passed, although it felt like  _ hours  _ judging by how exhausted his body felt. His mind, however, was a different matter. Almost as soon as they had finished, it was as though Louis' mind caught up to him, and since then his thoughts hadn't exactly let him relax. What had he just done? There had been nothing wrong physically with what happened, quite the contrary, if Louis was being honest, but… what about  _ Harry? _

Had Louis just cheated? Was that what had happened? Had  _ Nick  _ just cheated? But then Nick was also Louis' whatever he was - person - as well. So was that cheating? Louis just felt so guilty. He had no idea how he would go about telling Harry what he'd done, had no idea how Harry would react, how Harry would look at Louis, at them  _ both, _ after he found out.

For the very first time, he tried to believe in the powers of soulmates, of fate, and destiny. He tried to accept the general consensus that everything was written in the stars. All of the beliefs he swore he would never get involved in came to Louis' frantic mind. 

But the sobering fact of the matter for Louis was that those beings, whatever they were, had managed to bring these two wonderful people into his life, and Louis could not let them slip away. 

He would not let them slip away.

~~~

"Oh god," Louis muttered, a hiss of breath more than actual words but Nick still heard him, and he lifted his head from where it was resting comfortably on Louis' thigh.

"I know," Nick murmured, his heart still racing. "That was so hot."

Louis nodded, but he was worrying at his lip, and not in the same way as before. Nick frowned and shifted so he could sit up straight, wincing at the way the movement seemed to jostle his entire body. It only emphasised the aching that had settled in his bones. He was too old for this.

"Are you okay?" Nick asked quietly. "Was that okay?"

"Yeah, it was," Louis answered. "Honestly," he stressed when he took in Nick's doubtful expression. Nick smiled but he wasn't going to take that for an answer; he could see that there was some sort of struggle going on inside Louis' mind, it was written all over his face.

"So what's wrong?" he pressed, and Louis paused. Nick could practically  _ see  _ his thoughts processing.

"I'm - uh - " Louis hesitated again. "Look, could I just take a really quick shower? I'm all gross and, yeah."

Nick stared at him, concerned, but he chose not to push him for an answer. If Louis wanted a shower, he could have a shower, Nick was a very accommodating host. But Nick was pretty sure Louis wasn't just intending to get clean; he wanted to buy himself some more thinking time, and hopefully he would be able to get his thoughts in check a bit more lucidly. Nick could wait.

Nick watched Louis gather together his night clothes from a small bag by the sofa, and then they both walked through the flat to Nick's bedroom. Nick immediately dropped down onto his bed, his body far too tired for him to think about appearing graceful. He watched from under hooded eyelids as Louis wandered through the room to the bathroom.

"I won't be long,” Louis said, not bothering to look back at Nick as he spoke.

"No problem, you can take your time," Nick assured him, already turning his attention away from Louis to his phone. He wanted to give Louis his space, it was only fair. 

Nick smiled when he saw that he'd had a new message from Harry at some point during the evening, and tapped out a reply to him although he was pretty sure Harry would still be working. However, Harry texted back after only a few minutes telling Nick that he was just leaving the club, and would be back soon - the time had really gotten away from Nick, somehow, but this fact made him happy. 

Louis eventually re-entered the bedroom, dressed in his pyjamas with his bundle of dirty clothes clutched in his arms. Nick smiled and patted the bed beside him, telling him that Harry was on his way back. If Nick had been expecting any sort of positive reaction to this news, he would have been sorely disappointed.

Louis' expression fell and he blurted out a quick, harsh sentence. "Do you honestly not feel guilty?"

Nick actually  _ felt _ his easy, relaxed expression transform into one of shock. He hadn't even considered that Lou is might be feeling _guilty_. He slowly sat up a little straighter on the bed, eyeing Louis carefully. Louis simply looked back at Nick, not giving him anything to work with.

Nick struggled desperately for the best way to phrase his response but Louis only seemed to grow more irritated at the lack of answer. "Do you actually not care for Harry at all? Like, to the point where you literally don't feel bad about what just happened?"

Nick's jaw dropped. He had no idea what he could say to Louis. Louis was demanding for an answer that wasn't really Nick's answer to give. He couldn't make the choice for Harry to come out to Louis. It wasn't Nick's place to disclose something that personal about him, and he understood that it was a difficult process but he couldn't help but resent Harry a little bit for putting him in that position. If Harry had told Louis sooner, Louis wouldn't be feeling so uncertain now, and they wouldn't need to be dealing with this situation.

Nick let out an agitated sigh, running his hand through his hair as he tried desperately to stop his thoughts from swallowing him whole. He startled when he suddenly felt the bed dip beside him, and forced himself to look across at Louis.

"I'm just trying to understand," Louis said softly, and it was true, he didn't look angry anymore. He was eyeing Nick with something akin to concern now. "I'm not trying to make anyone feel bad, or whatever."

"Of course I care about Harry. I care about you too, by the way. Of course I do," Nick replied after the silence dragged on for a little longer, choosing his words very carefully. "Look, I don't want this to come across as condescending or anything, and I'm not trying to make  _ you  _ feel bad, but you don't know Harry  _ quite  _ as well as I do yet.” Louis frowned, and Nick quickly backtracked. "You  _ will _ get to know him, obviously. I really didn't mean anything bad by that," Nick stared at Louis, silently pleading with him to understand.

"I know," Louis said, a little halfheartedly and Nick really hoped he meant it. "It's fine. It's obvious, you and Harry have known each other longer than I've known you, so of course you have a bit of a head start on that. And of course I will get to know Harry, and _you,_ better as time goes on. __"

"Yeah!" Nick agreed, praying that Louis really got it. He took a deep breath before speaking again, trying to toe the line between reassuring Louis and revealing too much about Harry. "And once you do, you'll realise that me and you haven't done anything wrong tonight."  


That clearly wasn't what Louis had been expecting Nick to say, because he frowned, looking utterly confused. "What?" he managed, weakly, after a few seconds.

"You just need to talk to Harry more, and you'll realise it's all alright," Nick said slowly.

He watched as Louis processed his words, but he knew Louis wouldn't be understanding fully, not until he actually talked to Harry.

"Come here, and stop stressing," Nick said softly, after a moment, gently pulling Louis in closer to him on the bed.

"You're still all gross, though," Louis complained and Nick's eyes widened momentarily, shocked at the easy way Louis had slipped into Nick-bashing.

He quickly pulled himself together, though - if Louis wanted to play it like that, Nick could play with the best of them.

"Well, we can't all smell like roses," he scoffed, mock-offended.

"Or green tea," Louis shot back, and Nick bit out a startled laugh at the reference to the shower gel Nick favoured.

"Or that," he agreed and then made a very-quickly-aborted move to kiss Louis. It had just seemed like the logical next step; it's what he would have done if Harry had been in Louis' place. But Nick had to firmly remind himself that Louis and Harry were very different people, and kissing Louis in that moment would definitely not have been the right thing to do. "God, I almost kissed you then," he admitted into the renewed silence, his eyes wide.

"Don't be disgusting," Louis snapped, leaning back exaggeratedly. "I'll have nightmares."

"Oi, you little -!" Nick whacked at him but Louis just laughed, batting his hand away. 

Nick let out a sigh of relief as the tension in the room slowly dissolved bit by snarky bit, but just then, he became aware of footsteps outside the window and evidently Louis heard them too because he straightened up, quickly regaining his composure.

"S'that Harry, do you think?" he asked Nick, his voice significantly quieter.

"You don't have to whisper, love," Nick said, trying to hold back his laughter. "But, yes, I assume so. Hey - " he said, when Louis' expression transformed back into renewed panic. "Don't stress. It's all okay. You don't even have to tell him tonight if you don't want to. Either I can, or neither of us can. Either way, it's going to be okay, yeah? Just calm, love. Breathe."

"Alright," Louis muttered, and he pushed himself up from the bed as they heard the sound of a key in the door. "Get in the shower, Grimshaw, you stink."

Once again, Nick's mouth dropped open. How did Louis  _ do  _ that?

"I will in a bit. Got to put that green tea to use," Nick said as Louis began to walk out of the bedroom and Louis shook his head, laughing, as he slipped out of the room.

Nick listened to the two of them in the hallway as he slowly pushed himself up from the bed.

"Hi," Louis murmured. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Harry said, and Nick smiled at the extra deep tone to his voice. He was pretty sure Harry was slightly whispering as well. "Did I wake you?" he asked after a moment.

"No, no," Louis assured him quickly. "Don't worry."

"Good," Harry said, just as Nick stuck his head around the bedroom door.

"Evening, Harold," he sung, and Harry allowed himself to be pulled into a hug.

"Evening," he replied, the words spoken directly into Nick's neck, his breath tickling Nick's skin.

Nick dropped a kiss on the top of Harry's head, and held him close for a moment, feeling how cold he was from the night air, a stark contrast to Nick's current sweaty state.

"Sorry, I'm dead on my feet," Harry said after a moment, pulling away and running a hand through his dishevelled hair. "Long shift."

Nick hummed sympathetically. "Yeah? Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry shook his head, hiding a yawn in his fist. "Just want to take a quick shower. I'll be more awake after."

"You don't need to wake up if you don't want to, lovely," Nick soothed. "It's late."

"But I don't want to be crappy company," Harry protested, reaching out and brushing his hand along Louis' arm as he passed him, heading into Nick's bedroom.

"You're not! You never are," Nick told him, following him into the room. "Do what you want, babe, but you really don't need to wake yourself up if you don't want to."

"Alright," Harry said, eyes flicking between Nick and the doorway where Louis had relocated. A smile began to creep onto Harry's face. "Sorry, it's so strange having you both here after work. It's nice. Come here," he held his arms out wide for both of them, beckoning.

The three of them hugged for a moment in the middle of Nick's bedroom, ignoring the fact that one of them was half-asleep, one of them was kind of filthy, and one of them was freshly-washed and feeling slightly guilty. It was nice, comforting, the three of them wrapped up in a little cocoon. However, the hug got a little too hot too quickly, as their combined body heat made the hug go from cosy to stifling, and they broke apart again.

"I am going to go and shower," Harry repeated, decisively. "But I'll see how I feel after, okay? Be nice to each other, you two," he grinned as he disappeared into the bathroom.

Nick grinned back and returned to his former position on the bed, fiddling idly with his phone again. A while later, he realised Louis was standing stock still at the end of the bed and he frowned.

"Hey, what are you doing, creepy?" Nick asked, jabbing gently at Louis' leg with his toes.

"Nothing," Louis said, ducking his head sheepishly and starting to edge away towards the bedroom door. "I'm going to go and set my bed up, I think. Night, Nicholas."

"Night, Lewis," Nick replied, his voice more gentle than before. "Please don't be stressing about anything, okay?"

Louis nodded his head in response, and Nick watched as he left, sincerely hoping he would be able to calm down a little bit. He knew it wasn't his place to tell Louis about Harry's sexuality, but he really wished that would have been an option, just to put Louis' mind at rest. Nick wondered whether he  _ should  _ say something to Harry but decided not to. Harry was already tired after a long night, he could definitely wait to have any added stress piled on.

Nick smiled when he heard the shower turn off and heaved himself up to take his turn. He passed Harry in the doorway, wrapped in only a towel, and swooped in to press a firm kiss to his damp forehead which made Harry hum softly, wrapping his arms around Nick's waist for a moment.

"Going to take a shower, love," Nick murmured. "Then I'm ready for bed."

"Alright," Harry whispered back, squeezing Nick's waist before stepping away and beginning to pull his damp hair up into a bun. "I'll be in soon, just going to say goodnight to Lou."

Harry padded out of the bedroom, and Nick took in a slightly shaking breath, hoping that Louis would have the same realisation as Nick had and choose not to tell Harry that night.

He locked the bathroom door behind him, and finally stepped into the - now slightly lukewarm - shower. Nick tried not to think of it as washing away the evidence of what he and Louis had just done, but the thought was there nonetheless as he watched the water wash over his feet and disappear down the drain without a trace.

He growled frustratedly, and focused instead on just getting clean. He let the steam of the shower cloud his mind the same way it clouded his vision as the water beat down on him.

~~~

It might not have happened the same night, but it still only took Harry a very short time to find out about Louis and Nick's night together. He had woken up bright and early the morning after, with the intentions of surprising both Louis and Nick with a hearty breakfast.

His first thought when he had seen the deserted living area was that Louis had beaten him to that idea, but the closer he got to the kitchen, the more he realised he was probably mistaken as there were no sounds whatsoever coming from inside that room.

Harry poked his head around the doorway anyway, but Louis was definitely not in there, so Harry went back into the living room, wrinkling his nose at the general untidiness of the place. He noted that Louis' bag from the night before was also missing, and with a sinking heart realised that Louis must have already left. He probably had to be at the football academy, Harry reasoned, and it was either later in the morning than Harry had thought it was or Louis' practise was due to start earlier than Harry had realised. Either way, Harry sighed, feeling a little bit disappointed; he would have loved to have had a cosy domestic breakfast with the two of them, but clearly it wasn't meant to be.

He traipsed through to the kitchen anyway, deciding to follow through with making breakfast for himself and Nick, and emerged half an hour later with a tray full of breakfast goodies and two steaming mugs of coffee, balanced in his arms. The whole way to the bedroom, he was desperately praying that he would manage to carry it all safely with no spillages.

When he reached the bedroom, he rolled his eyes at the fact that Nick was still sound asleep, despite the fact that Harry was pretty sure he hadn't been particularly quiet in the kitchen. He carefully put the tray down on the floor and reached for his phone to send out a quick text to Louis: ' _ Sorry I missed you this morning, hope you slept okay :) x'. _

Harry decided to go back through to the living area until Nick woke up, and make a start on tidying up. He began with the numerous beer bottles that were dotted around on the coffee table; Harry rolled his eyes at the discovery that a couple of the bottles were only half-finished - could Louis really not have finished one drink before starting on another? He took them through to the kitchen and deposited the empty glasses in the recycling bin before storing away the half empty bottles back in the fridge in case anyone wanted them later.

He wandered back into the living area, stifling a yawn in his hand. Next on Harry's agenda was to remove the duvet Louis had used the night before and get it ready to go in for a wash. Harry's reasoning was that with the bulk of that removed from the room, things would look instantly cleaner, and he was pleased to note that he was right on that front. Once the duvet was taken care of, Harry approached the sofa again and was about to start putting the cushions back to normal when he noticed a crumpled piece of paper lying in the space the duvet had just been covering. He reached for it, and smoothed it out to see what it actually was.

To start with, Harry thought it was - somehow - the note Louis had left for him the night he'd spilled his coffee in the diner. However, although it was very similar to that note, on closer inspection, it wasn't the same.

Harry frowned as he read the writing scrawled on the small piece of paper.

_ I'm really sorry. Talk soon. X  
_

Harry lowered himself down onto the sofa, still staring at the words in front of him.

Was Louis apologising for ducking out early? Wouldn't a text message have been enough?

"There you are!" Harry heard Nick chime behind him. "You are very lucky I got out of bed on the opposite side to your little booby trap, I would have stepped right into all your hard work, love. Funnily enough, I was planning on making  _ you  _ both breakfast this morning! Great minds think alike. Where  _ is  _ our little Louis anyway? Is he making us breakfast too?"

Harry sighed, trying to clear the confusion in his brain. "No, he isn't. He's not here. I think he's at football?"

"Oh, no!" Nick exclaimed. "Oh, what a shame. I did wonder why there were only two mugs on the tray!"

Harry huffed out a small laugh, still not looking up from the note.

"Want to come and help me polish all that off, then, lovely?" Nick asked after a moment, and when Harry didn't respond, Nick moved around the sofa so he could see his face. "What's that you've got?"

Harry looked up at Nick, taking in his sleep-dishevelled appearance and smiling despite himself.  

"I don't know, actually," Harry admitted, and held the paper out for Nick to see. "Louis left us this note, but I don't know what he's apologising for... or why he didn't just text."

Harry watched as Nick read what Louis had written, and almost instantly his face flushed red.

"What's he on about?" Harry questioned slowly, and Nick flinched, looking up at Harry with a strangely guilty expression on his face. "Yeah, judging by your face you know much more than I do, so do you mind filling me in?"

Harry wasn't being aggressive about it, not really, but he did slightly resent being left out of the loop like that.

"Thanks, Louis," Nick muttered, absentmindedly screwing the piece of paper up in his hand. "Just leave it all down to me, there's a good lad."

"Nick?" Harry pressed. "What's he sorry for? What's going on?"

Nick sighed. "He's freaking out a little bit. I thought he'd started feeling a bit better but apparently I was wrong. Let me just text him quickly, then we'll talk, okay?"

"I've already texted him," Harry said before Nick could leave the living area to get his phone. His heart was beating harder in his chest now, starting to get seriously worried. He had felt firsthand the evidence of where Louis' panicking and negative thoughts had got him in the past, and not knowing the extent of the situation was making Harry's mind go to very dark places. "Nick, what's going on? Is he okay?"

"I think he's probably feeling a bit guilty, love," Nick said softly, moving to sit on the sofa next to Harry. "You haven't managed to tell him about your asexuality yet, have you?"

Harry frowned. "Um… No, I haven't. Why? What's that got to do with anything?"

Instead of answering Harry's question, Nick responded with another one of his own. "Do you remember that conversation we had earlier this week?"

Harry sighed, looking away from Nick's gaze. "Yeah, I do, and I promise I will tell him soon. I know I need - "

"No, no, love, that's not what I'm getting at - " Nick interrupted and Harry looked back up at him questioningly. "I know we mentioned that before as well, but the same night we also talked about how all of our individual relationships were each going to be a little bit different, yeah?"

Harry nodded slowly, his brow furrowed as he tried to work out where the conversation was going.  "I know we should have spoken to Lou about it all as well, that was stupid of us. It was even  _ my _ idea to make sure we all communicated properly and - "

"Harry, love, let me speak," Nick cut in again, but his tone was gentle, placating. Harry snapped his mouth shut again and looked across at Nick expectantly. "So, we know Louis can't give us anything romantically just yet - "

"Maybe not ever," Harry couldn't resist interjecting, he didn't want Nick to be holding out for something that might never happen.

"Probably not ever," Nick conceded. "And that's okay, because that's the type of relationship me and you have, yeah? If we want to get all soppy, we know we won't turn to Louis, but to each other instead."

"Yeah, but - "

" _And_ we also know that you can't give us anything sexually just y-"

"E ver," Harry interrupted vehemently. He didn't usually have sex-repulsed days - which was very lucky considering his current job choice - but for the past few days he had been firmly against the idea of sex, and had even neglected to perform any stage dances for a while because of that feeling. "Probably," he added in a smaller voice, flicking his eyes up to meet Nick's.

Nick gave a small smile and let his hand drop onto Harry's comfortingly.

"That's fine, lovely. That just means that me and Louis won't turn to you for anything sexual, but to each other instead," Nick said.

Harry nodded. "I know, that's what we agreed on. I mean, we still probably should talk to Louis about that though. I mean, consent is key and - "

"Harry," Nick spoke softly, and then hesitated, taking in Harry's - probably very confused - expression. "Um, love, are you having a positive or negative day today?"

"Negative," Harry answered instantly, and Nick's lips tightened.

"Okay, that's alright, but I still need to tell you; it's only fair. I mean, we are still going to discuss all of that with Louis properly, of course, but… Me and Louis have already, you know…" Nick trailed off, and watched Harry carefully.

Harry knew Nick saw the moment Harry's expression changed because he quickly removed his hand from where it had remained resting on Harry's, so Harry could jump up from the sofa.

"Harry…" Nick called after him as he quickly walked away from the living area on slightly shaky legs.

"I'm okay," Harry assured him, not wanting him to follow. "Just - just give me a minute."

He wandered into the bedroom and stood stock still, cradling his stomach for a moment, feeling suddenly nauseous. It wasn't jealousy that was making his body react like that, and Harry prayed Nick didn't think it was. The idea of the two closest people to him engaging in something like that just wasn't sitting right with Harry at that moment.

Harry had the sudden urge to jump in the shower, and scrub himself clean, like he'd needed to do after his shift the night before, but he tried to calm himself down a little first, didn't want to overreact.

It was the sight of the laid out breakfast tray that made Harry finally crack. He bent over double for a moment, still cradling his stomach. For a second, he wasn't sure if he was about to laugh or cry.

The realisation that the breakfast sitting on the floor before him had originally been intended for three people, and then two, and at that moment probably wasn't even fit for one, could either have been really upsetting or just downright hilarious, and Harry teetered on the edge between the two emotions for a long moment.

Finally a sound bubbled out of Harry's throat, and it was as though a weight lifted from his shoulders along with it - it was like a weight had lifted from his  _ stomach,  _ almost. He dropped down to his knees next to the tray, unable to hold his body up as the laughter racked his body, rendering his limbs slightly useless.

"Harry?" he heard Nick call, but he couldn't find the words to shout back.  Luckily he didn't need to because before too long, he heard Nick's footsteps approaching down the hall.

"Oh, love," Nick cooed. "Don't be upset, please. You know it's - oh, you're - are you  _ laughing?" _

The sound of Nick's confusion only made Harry laugh louder, even as he tried desperately to regain his composure a little bit.

Nick slowly lowered himself onto the carpet beside Harry, and he could see the baffled way Nick was looking at him out of the corner of his eye which didn't help him quell his laughter. It took him a good few minutes to compose himself enough to speak.

"I told you I was okay," Harry said, voice a little weak from the prolonged laughter.

"You're not upset?" Nick checked, a little unnecessarily, Harry thought.

"No! I'm glad you and Lou found each other," Harry said honestly. "You'll need each other for that."

"Well, I'm sure he's going to be a bit more than just a friend with benefits," Nick said, sounding a little offended, and Harry quickly backtracked.

"Yeah, of course he will! It's just, I knew I wouldn't be able to give you that, but I also knew you'd probably need it some day. Like, that was the reason why I was so scared to come out to you in the first place, because I thought it would be game over."

"But it wasn't, love. Even if Louis hadn't come along, that wouldn't have been a problem. I told you that," Nick said.

"It would have been, though!" Harry protested "Not for me, but for you. You were going to need it some day, it's just natural for you. At least now I'm not having to think about you with a stranger, you know? Because that would probably have been the only solution - "

"Harry, I was never going to cheat on you!" Nick burst out, suddenly sounding angry.

"I know, I know," Harry said, trying to placate him.

"Do you?" Nick demanded.

"Nick, please. I _know_. I'm just saying, now I know that whatever happens it's okay, because either you're fine and not needing that sort of thing - and the same goes for Louis - or if you do need it, then you have each other; which actually I assume would be a similar thought process to what Louis has about us and the whole romance thing, don't you think?"

"Did Louis accuse you of cheating on him though?" Nick demanded, and Harry's mouth dropped open.

"Nick! No. And I didn't accuse you! I'm just saying-"

"Is this what you've been thinking about the whole time? You've been worrying about me - about  _ that _ ?" Nick stumbled over his words.

"No! But I know that you like sex, and that probably some day you would _want_  it. I mean, the first time we ever met was in a strip club, for god's sake."

"Yeah, the strip club you work in, Harry," Nick pointed out.

"You didn't know that at the time, Nick... And you've said to me before that you find me sexy," Harry said, in a small voice, as his stomach turned.

"Did I? When? I've used a lot of positive words to describe you, love, but I don't think sexy has been one of them... not even to -"

At that moment, Harry's phone chirped on the bedside table, and he reached for it, kind of glad for the distraction. He noted that Nick had fallen silent at the sound.

"It's Louis," Harry muttered.

"Are you going to have a go at him, as well?" Nick said, cuttingly.

"I'm not even having a go at _you_! I'm completely fine with what the two of you did! I told you that!" Harry said, exasperated.

Nick gave him a long, searching, look until eventually Harry looked away to read Louis' message.

_ Sorry! Had to run, was late for footie! Slept great, thanks. See you soon. x _

Harry smiled down at his phone screen, and when Nick spoke again, his voice was much softer to question, "Is he alright?"

"I think so. He's saying he had to rush off to football," Harry explained. "And that he slept well."

"Oh, good," Nick said. "He probably slept better than I did; I was awake half the night worrying about him."

Harry hummed sympathetically, eyes still on Louis' message.

"Harry," Nick said suddenly. "When  _ did  _ I call you sexy?"

"That night you wanted you watch my scene," Harry muttered.

"Oh,  _ Harry _ ," Nick said, softly, and Harry looked up at him. Nick looked so sad that Harry had to close the space between them, leaning in to place a kiss on Nick's neck before resting his head on his shoulder.

"It's okay. I was just saying, you  _did_ say it." Harry felt silly for bringing it up now, he was really wishing he'd kept his mouth shut.

"I know, and I'm sorry I said it," Nick said. "It was the alcohol, and the heat of the moment; which doesn't excuse anything, I know, but I didn't even properly mean it. I was stupid."

"It's okay," Harry repeated. "I just don't want you to think of me as being sexy, or to think of what I do as being sexy," he said slowly. "I would  _ never _ want that. Like, I don't even like the idea of the regular people in the club assuming I'm sexually active, or whatever, but that's still a lot easier to deal with than my boyfriend thinking it, you know?"

"I know," Nick murmured, and Harry felt him drop a kiss on the top of his head. He hummed happily, burrowing in closer to Nick's side and smiling when Nick's arms snaked around his waist to steady him.

"Because the truth is I'm just _not_ sexually active, I'm not sexually interested, or  _ anything _ ," Harry went on. "I'm not going to be that person for you, or for Louis, or for anyone. I can't be."

"I don't want you to be, lovely. You don't need to be that person, you just need to be  _ you.  _ I wouldn't change you for the world."

Harry leaned up then so he could kiss Nick properly in lieu of a verbal answer, craving the intimacy in that moment. Nick's hand brushed soothingly along the small of Harry's back and Harry sighed into the kiss.

"I'm sorry, love," Nick said when they broke the kiss, although they barely moved apart from each other.

"Don't be," Harry murmured, eyes fixed on Nick's lips. "There's nothing to be sorry for." He hesitated then, heart suddenly beating hard in his chest, slightly taken aback by the words that were so close to coming out.

"Are you okay?" Nick whispered against Harry's lips. He tried to draw back to see Harry's face properly but Harry didn't let him.

"Yeah," Harry breathed. "Nick, I - "

"You what?" Nick prompted, when Harry failed to continue.

Harry felt his cheeks flush. He  _ had  _ to say it. The moment just felt so perfect.

"I love you."

Harry heard Nick's gasp, and it was his turn to try and pull away but Nick only pulled him in closer. He kissed him firmly, cupping one of Harry's flushed cheeks in his palm, rubbing his thumb along Harry's cheekbone.

"I love you, too," Nick said, pulling back just enough so they could meet each other's eyes. "So much."

Harry sighed in relief and curled in tight, burying his face in Nick's neck to continue pressing kisses there.

They remained sat there on Nick's bedroom floor, holding each other tight for an indeterminate amount of time, their hearts beating steadily between them.

Everything just felt so right. Everything felt perfect. It felt like home.

Louis and Nick had found their dynamic, which was something Harry had been worrying about, and he for sure knew that Nick had been stressing about it as well. Now that doubt had been taken away and replaced with a new and much needed relationship. 

Harry felt more bonded to Nick than he possibly ever had done; what Nick had been scared would tear them apart had somehow succeeded in bringing them even closer together.

Now, Harry was looking forward to finding out what his own dynamic with Louis was going to be, and was even more excited to find out how their trio would develop.

He was sure it would only be a matter of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that you can watch the trailer for this fic here if you want to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GcDf6r9fn3M


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** I'm so sorry this took so long, but I am currently working on finishing this story for nanowrimo so fingers crossed updates will be a little more regular! Thank you for your patience! Warnings for this chapter: a very brief scene that could be taken as dub-con ***

Louis was on the bus, travelling to football practise, when he'd realised with a jolt that almost a whole week had passed since the night he had stayed at Nick's. He had gotten so caught up in the whirlwind that his life had somehow become - thanks to the days filled with football training and theory swotting, and the nights filled with Niall's notorious parties - that he had genuinely lost track of time.

He hadn't even seen Nick or Harry since that night, not having much time for more than a phone call; a quick catch-up. As far as he could tell, though, the two of them were equally as busy with their own lives, so Louis had only felt momentarily guilty about that fact. The guilt that still hung over his head relating to the events of that night - and the fact that he'd basically ran out on Nick and Harry the next morning - wasn't quite so easy to shake off, but Louis was working on that. Niall's parties helped in that area.

What Niall's parties didn't help with, though, was the earlier mornings Louis was having to get used to in his new lifestyle. When Louis had been working in the diner, he would wake up around midday and leisurely start his day before going out to work at night and then falling into bed in the early hours of the morning. Now, on the other hand, he was having to wake up at around eight o'clock every day he had practise, which was a time Louis hadn't seen properly since his school days. He hadn't missed it.

Louis' hatred of early mornings had very quickly become a common point of knowledge in his relationship, and Nick had taken to leaving a slightly aggressive message in the group chat, threatening Louis to get out of bed on the days he knew he needed to be up. Louis would read these texts through a half-open eye and then blatantly ignore it, but somehow he didn't quite have it in his heart to let himself fall back asleep after he'd seen them. The knowledge that he was lazing around in bed while Nick had been awake for x amount of hours already and was probably in full swing on his radio show gave Louis the motivation he needed to actually get up and start his day. He'd have to remember to actually thank Nick for that one day, instead of replying to Nick's messages with some sort of insult.

That day was still yet to come as Nick's wake up text that morning had been replied to with a succinct, _who the hell do you think you are?_ Louis didn't _think_ Nick ever got offended by his replies; he'd simply received three sun emojis in return that morning, along with a link to listen to Nick's show. Louis had rolled his eyes so hard it almost hurt, but that hadn't stopped him from clicking on the link and letting Nick's show play on as he went about his morning routine. He didn't admit that to Nick either. There was only so many compliments a person could take, and Louis was pretty sure Harry had that area covered, anyway.

Louis had kept the show playing right up until it was time for him to leave the flat to head to the academy, which was a shame because if he had listened for just a little bit longer, he wouldn't have been quite so shocked when Nick turned up out of the blue to watch him play.

Louis probably shouldn't have been as surprised as he was, anyway, considering that it had quickly become a sort of tradition for Nick to come to Louis' practises on a Wednesday. He would travel straight from work just to get there on time, which Louis was quietly appreciative of. It was always nice to have someone cheering him on a little bit, even if he wasn’t actually playing in a proper match. However, because they hadn't explicitly spoken about it that week, Louis genuinely hadn't been expecting Nick to show up. When Louis caught sight of him in the stands, he'd actually paused mid-run to stare up at him embarrassingly for a moment. It took the whistle blowing sharply to bring his attention back to the task in hand, but even then he'd been a little bit distracted for the rest of the game.

While Louis was showering after the game, he managed to half-convince himself that Nick would be gone by the time he was finished, and was genuinely relieved to find Nick standing patiently by the exit when Louis got there, already reaching out to take Louis' bag from him.

"You played well out there, superstar," Nick murmured softly into the top of Louis' head as he pulled him in for a hug. This was Nick's way of saying 'good to see you again, I missed you, _superstar.'_

Louis smiled shyly into Nick's shoulder as he squeezed him back, basking in the contact after what felt like so long apart.

"Thanks," Louis replied, pulling back and fiddling self-consciously with his damp fringe, tweaking it into place. "I didn’t think you'd be here." Louis' way of saying 'thank you for being here, I missed you too.'

Once the hidden deeper conversation was over and done with, it was like the slight tension that had still remained blew away on the sigh of relief Louis and Nick seemed to let out simultaneously, and quickly got lost in the breeze around them.

Nick tutted as he started leading the way round to the car park, Louis trailing after him. "Someone's not a true fan, then. I sent you the link and everything."

It took Louis a moment to remember what they had even been talking about. "To your show?" Louis checked, and when Nick nodded, he gasped in outrage. "I _did_ listen, thank you very much. You were average, as always."

Nick didn't rise to Louis' bait, simply shaking his head as he unlocked his car.

"You didn't listen to the very end, though. I told the _nation_ I was coming to see you today. Everyone and their dog knows I'm here right now."

"You said that on the radio? You talked about me?" Louis asked, as they ducked into their respective car seats.

"I did," Nick confirmed. "Well... I didn't say your name, but I made it pretty clear."

"What did you call me?" Louis asked, sinking into the passenger seat. His jelly legs had finally given out on him as the adrenaline from the match ebbed away.

"Short stuff," Nick snorted, and Louis whacked at him across the console.

"Beanpole," Louis muttered as Nick put his key in the ignition and started to exit the car park.

They had only been driving for a few minutes when Louis realised with a pang that the car - or at least the seat he was sitting in - smelled quite a lot like Harry, and this discovery only made Louis more aware of how long it had been since they had met up.

"Are we going back to yours?" Louis asked, trying his best to talk normally through the sudden lump in his throat.

Nick hummed thoughtfully and, in lieu of a proper response, simply asked, "Has Harry posted anything in the group chat today?"

Louis frowned, but fumbled for his phone anyway. He'd learned very quickly not to question Nick's sporadic train of thought. It always seemed to end up where it was supposed to be eventually, it just took a lovely scenic route to get there.

Louis clicked on the group chat and saw that the most recent message in it was still Louis' response to Nick's breakfast show link: a simple poop emoji.

"No, he hasn't," Louis answered, thumb hovering over the text bar, deliberating. Nick's voice pulled him away before he could actually type anything, though.

"We're not going back to mine, then," he said. "He's probably still sleeping."

" _Still?"_  Louis questioned, eyes flicking up the top corner of his phone to check the time. "It's nearly 2 o'clock!"

"I know, and I don't resent him one bit for the lay-in." At Louis' snort of derision, assuming Nick was being sarcastic, Nick continued, "No, I mean it. You're not the only one who's been super busy, you know. Harry's been taking on more shifts all week. He got in at about three o'clock this morning, and he's working again tonight. He's shattered, the poor boy!"

Louis frowned; he hadn't actually known that at all, seeing as no one had mentioned that to him.

"Why's he taking more shifts?" he questioned, instead of asking what he really wanted to be asking; why didn't either of you tell me?

"It's Anne's birthday soon, so he's saving up for presents for her and also the fare to get up there to see her," Nick explained, not that his explanation made things any clearer for Louis.

"Who's Anne?" he asked. "Get up where to see her?"

"Oh," Nick said, sounding surprised. "Anne's Harry's mum, and she still lives in Holmes Chapel, so up there."

"I didn't even know that," Louis muttered, half to himself.

Louis was well aware of the fact that he didn't know Harry or Nick quite as well as the two of them knew each other; he didn't know the ins and outs of Harry and Nick like they did. He knew that this worked both ways, that there was still a lot they had to learn about him too, but this didn't make it any easier. He'd obviously missed out on some of the bonding time Nick and Harry had shared before he came along, and Louis could admit that this was probably his own fault for running away in the first place. Because of this, he was usually able to ignore that feeling of missing out - reasoning that he _would_ get to find out all of the little things as time went on. But Louis was only human, and he couldn't push that niggling insecurity down forever. It got especially difficult at moments like this when he just felt so out of the loop, not even knowing something as basic as Harry's work schedule.

If only that was where it stopped, though, because truthfully, Louis barely knew anything about Harry's work life in general. He really felt at a bit of a disadvantage there, never even having been to support Harry at his club before. He hadn't even known that the club itself existed until their conversation at Niall's party the night they'd met; he knew Harry worked at _a_ club but didn't know any of the details. Harry was always very evasive about his job; whenever Louis tried to talk about it, Harry would shrug it off and quickly change the subject.  Louis had even told Harry a couple of times that he would like to go and see him at work, even if only to keep him company during his shift, but Harry had always declined Louis' offer, usually with the annoyingly valid excuse that Louis had to be up early for football the next morning.

"Lou," Nick's voice brought Louis out of his thoughts and he looked across at Nick only to see that Nick was already staring back at him.

Louis quickly looked away again, clearing his throat self-consciously, as he looked out of the window, noticing that they had parked up somewhere while he'd been trapped in his downwards spiral.

"Where are we?" Louis asked, trying to sound perfectly normal, or at least not like the insecure mess he'd somehow become since he sat down in the car.

"Lou, it's okay," Nick said, his voice impossibly soft, and Louis frowned, gaze still fixed out of the window so he wouldn't have to see the pity he knew he'd find in Nick's face.

He didn't want Nick's  _pity,_ he wanted to be part of this as an equal, not as some poor boy that had to keep being told things, like a trainee member of the relationship.

"Where are we?" Louis repeated, his voice gruff.

Nick sighed, but apparently chose not to push it because he simply replied, "Thought we'd come to this little cafe for something to eat, you probably need it after the morning you've had."

At first Louis thought Nick was referring to what had just happened and opened his mouth to snap back a retort, before he realised Nick meant the football training, obviously, because Nick wasn't a mean spirited person.

"Okay, thanks," Louis replied, reaching to unbuckle his seat-belt.

_Come on, pull it together, Tomlinson._

If Louis was uncharacteristically quiet while they sat and ate in the cafe, Nick had the grace not to mention it. Louis was grateful for this because it meant he could come up with some semblance of a plan uninterrupted.

Amongst the mass revelations in the car, Louis had picked up on the simpler fact that Harry was working that night, and Louis had decided that he would finally go and see Harry at work that night. It was a Wednesday, Louis didn't have any commitments the next day, meaning Harry's usual excuse wouldn't work.

Louis was determined, but unfortunately that didn't simplify Louis' plotting beyond the sheer motivation it gave him. Louis' sense of pride was preventing him from asking Nick outright what the name of Harry's club was - having to admit he didn't know Harry’s mum’s name had been bad enough - and he didn't really want to ask Harry either, clinging onto the thought that he should already know something as simple as that.

He made his excuses once they had both finished eating, and left Nick with a hug that was somehow both comforting and a bittersweet reminder of what Louis didn't quite have simultaneously.

Once he was back at Niall's flat, he immediately started pushing Niall for help. Louis wasn't about to actually spill the details of his sneaky plan to Niall; he couldn't face the judgement, or the teasing, that would be sure to follow the small admission that he was attempting to find Harry's place of work. No, he was far more subtle than that. He started his enquiries by oh-so-casually asking Niall if he was working that night; _he was_ , and if he ever went out straight after a shift; _he did_. Both perfectly helpful answers for Louis' situation. Unfortunately, he wasn't so lucky when he tried to pick Niall's brains on what clubs were in the vicinity of the diner. Niall was able to describe three of them in great detail, but couldn't actually remember any of their names.

Louis was not going to let this dead end deter him from his plan; he'd come this far he wasn't about to back out now, so he lounged around the flat while Niall got ready for work, and then tagged right along with him as he left to start his shift. He'd figured it would be as good a start as any to return to the diner. He wasn't going to try and flatter himself by thinking that Harry had travelled any sort of long distance just to visit Louis of a night time, so he figured that Harry must have worked close by to the diner for him to have been such a regular customer.

Niall seemed a little surprised by Louis' presence, but didn't complain. He seemed grateful for the company, if anything. Louis felt a little bad about the fact that he wasn't actually intending to stay with Niall for very long, but a few minutes company was surely better than none, anyway, even if Louis was incredibly distracted the whole time he was there, the cogs in his brain whirring as he tried to come up with the second phase to his so-called plan.

Louis' average-at-best luck meant that the diner was practically empty that night so there was no one around he could ask for help. He realised very quickly that sitting in the diner waiting for something to fall into his lap was clearly not working for him, so within only half an hour of arriving, Louis slipped out of the diner with a half-hearted explanation to Niall, and walked a little way down the street, simply hoping for the best.

Twenty minutes later, and Louis' hope and blind faith had led him completely off course. He couldn't see anything that even remotely resembled a club, absolutely nothing like the places Niall had described to him earlier. Defeated, he stopped for a moment, deliberating desperately over what to do next. He began retracing his steps again, lost in thought. He was hoping that he would at least end up back at the diner so he wouldn’t be genuinely lost in London - not ideal, that.

He tugged his phone out of his pocket as he walked, wanting a bit of a security blanket, so he could feel a little more secure within himself. However, when he glanced down at the screen, the very first thing he noticed was that there was a bunch of new notifications from the group chat, and for a blessed moment relief flooded through him as he realised he could simply text Harry and ask him for help. He'd have to swallow his pride a little bit, but at least he wouldn't be alone on the streets of London. However, this moment was very short-lived when Louis clicked onto the chat and saw that the latest notification was actually from Harry saying goodbye to Nick because _he had to turn his phone off to get to work._

Luck was really not on Louis' side. With a rapidly sinking heart, he looked desperately around himself, willing himself to recognise _something._ Although the area he was now in seemed more like a typical town, with closed up shops lining the streets, none of his surroundings were at all familiar or club-like to him. He started to pull up the map app on his phone to at least direct him back to the diner, but even as he did so, he realised he didn't want to admit defeat that easily. If he went back to the diner now, Niall would bombard him with a load of questions that Louis wasn't willing to answer, and Louis would only be going back to square one, quite literally.

He gave himself a metaphorical shake and marched purposefully up to the closest open building to him, intending to ask inside for directions to the nearest club. If he got directed to the wrong club - which Louis could recognise was probably quite likely - he would just keep going with that plan until he found the right one. It would be better than doing nothing, and it was a far better plan than simply giving up, for sure.

It turned out that luck might have been looking after Louis much more than he'd thought that night, because the moment he pushed open the heavy door, he realised that his investigation could end right there and then.

Louis had taken note of Harry's uniform in the past - the gold boots he seemed to favour, the gold jacket, with all of his other clothes being black - and the building Louis found himself in definitely coincided with those colours. It was also strangely familiar to him thanks to one of Niall's descriptions earlier, and the sudden knowledge that Niall had possibly seen Harry at work before even before Louis had known of the place jolted Louis for a moment.

He gazed around himself, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sudden change in environment. The music was loud, the lights were bright, and there were _so many_ people packed in around him - some of them wearing much fewer items of clothing than others.

Louis wasn't entirely sure how he hadn't noticed straight away, but now he caught sight of someone up on a stage a little way away. They had their back to a crowd that had gathered around, all gazing up at the person as they danced to the beat of the music pounding through the club.

When they turned around, Louis froze. Because, of course, that person up there was none other than the person he'd gone on this chase around London for. Harry looked… well, he looked incredible up there, but he didn’t look like the Harry Louis was used to. He looked like a totally different person, and Louis couldn't put his finger on why. It wasn't a _bad_ thing per se, and Louis primarily found himself wishing he'd seen this side of Harry much sooner, and perhaps in more private circumstances, because there was no denying that Harry looked _hot_ up on that stage.

Louis glared at the crowd of people staring at Harry, he wasn't _theirs_ to ogle at. They needed to back off. It took Louis the entirety of Harry's performance to work out that he was in some sort of strip club - Harry hadn't actually stripped, beyond lifting his shirt up, sliding the waistband of his jeans down a tiny bit - but it was pretty obvious just from the vibe of the place, and the numerous half-naked men that had moved around Louis as he'd stood rooted to his spot on the floor as Harry danced.

Was this why Harry hadn't told Louis any of the details? Was he embarrassed? Because he absolutelydidn't need to be.

Louis was pretty sure his jaw was actually on the floor by the time Harry finally finished dancing, and vacated the stage. It took Louis a long moment to realise that he should probably approach Harry at some point soon, and he shook himself out of his stupor just enough to navigate his way through the crowd to the place he'd seen Harry disappear. The sheer amount of people crammed in between them didn't make this an easy feat, and it meant that even as Louis drew near to Harry, he still went undetected. It took Louis actually tapping Harry on the arm for him to be noticed.

Harry jumped at the contact and turned to face Louis with wide eyes, which seemed to only grow wider as he realised who he was looking at.

"Lou? Oh my God!" Harry shouted over the noise, quickly pulling him into a very warm, very tight hug. "What are you doing here?" he said, his mouth pressed to Louis' ear to be heard, but Louis simply let himself be hugged tight, revelling in being pressed up against Harry's body like that, claiming Harry back away from all the strangers' that were still crowded around them. _Ha,_ Louis thought, hoping they _were_ watching now.

"I missed you," Louis murmured pathetically, and Harry pulled back to frown down at him, indicated that he couldn't hear him.

Louis opened his mouth to speak again - maybe to say something a bit more substantial than, _'_ _missed you' -_  but Harry was already turning away from Louis, peering over people's shoulders, apparently looking for something. Eventually, he caught the attention of someone, who judging by his attire - or lack thereof - also worked at the club. Louis quickly averted his eyes from the lean tanned skin in front of him, although there seemed to be a lot of bare skin on show everywhere he looked, so he couldn't really win… or lose, depending on how Louis looked at it.

Harry spoke with the other guy briefly, although Louis didn't catch a word they said. After a moment, Harry pulled at Louis' wrist, silently beckoning him to follow him. Louis allowed himself to be dragged back through the crowd of people, which had become a lot easier to navigate with Harry guiding the way. They ended up next to a long bar, but before Louis could claim a seat at the bar as he'd assumed Harry wanted, Harry was steering him away and through a door Louis hadn't previously noticed.

Within seconds, all of the hustle and bustle of the club faded away as though someone had simply turned the volume down, and Louis' ears rung with the sudden transition. He looked around, taking in the small room he now found himself in as best as he could in his slightly disorientated state.

There were a few doors leading off the room; one straight ahead - a fire exit - and one either side of Louis. Directly in front of Louis was a large sofa and coffee table, next to the door on Louis' right was a little sink area with various mugs and bottles of water dotted around, and past the door on Louis' left there was a couple of lone chairs lined up along the wall, along with a dressing table and mirror, which is where Harry had relocated.

Louis stopped looking around then, instead focusing on watching Harry re-apply his makeup. Harry's gaze flicked up to meet Louis' in the mirror and Louis had to fight the urge to turn away, feeling suddenly shy. Louis had _never_ seen Harry look the way he did that night, and it was almost overwhelming how attractive he found him. That wasn't to say Louis hadn't been attracted to Harry before, because of course he had; Harry was very good-looking, that was undeniable. However, this was _something else_.

"Don't look so nervous," Harry said, his lips curling up. Louis returned the smile awkwardly before crossing the room to meet Harry.

It appeared that Harry had the same idea because they met halfway, walking straight into each other's arms. Louis actually had to stifle a moan as their bodies melted into each other again, he could feel the heat rolling off of Harry's body in waves. Now that he was pressed up against Harry's body again, he felt completely at home. He realised that there had been no need to feel so awkward before; the stress of how Harry might have reacted to the events of the night at Nick's, the awe at how beautiful Harry looked that evening, the feeling of how Louis wasn't good enough to even be in Harry's presence, it all melted away, because this was _Harry._ This was his Harry, and this was where Louis was supposed to be."

"You look so damn good," Louis murmured into the hot, slightly damp, skin of Harry's neck, wanting to bite down on it, to feel the heat intensify.

Before Louis could think twice about it, he fell back onto the sofa, pulling Harry down with him so that he was sprawled on his back with Harry above him. Louis had curled a leg around both of Harry's and was arching up to try and attach his mouth to Harry's neck properly when he realised that Harry was completely tense above him. He was very carefully holding himself up away from Louis so that their bodies weren't actually touching apart from where Louis was effectively holding him in place. Louis quickly recovered himself, taking his leg away and sitting up straight.

Harry instantly moved away, confirming to Louis that he had crossed a line somewhere. Harry perched on the opposite arm of the sofa with his head bowed, his hair curling down around his face. Breathing slightly heavily, Louis stared across at Harry with wide eyes.

"Are you - are you okay?" Louis ventured, nervously. His heart was thumping uncomfortably through his shirt.

Harry's head remained down, so Louis couldn't even see his face, and he was fiddling with his hands in his lap, specifically with the black ring on his middle finger, turning it round and round in a repetitive motion. It didn't seem like he was going to give Louis any sort of response but just as Louis was about to say something else - to _apologise_ \- Harry suddenly looked right at him and Louis clammed up at the expression on his face.

He couldn't quite read how Harry was feeling, but he appeared to be psyching himself up for something. Louis' eyes dropped to where one of Harry's hands was now tapping incessantly against his thigh.

"Harry?" Louis pressed quietly, when the silence became too unbearable, and Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Louis," Harry murmured. "I - uh - can I show you something?"

Louis frowned in confusion but Harry seemed so vulnerable in that moment that all he could do was nod, relentlessly searching Harry's face for a sign of what was going on.

Harry took a deep breath - audibly shaking - and then rose up to his feet, his entire body equally as shaky. Louis just wanted to pull him in for a hug, but he didn't know if he was allowed to.

If Louis thought things would become clearer as time went on, he was sorely mistaken when Harry started fiddling with the hem of his shirt before taking another deep breath and hoisting it straight up suddenly as if refusing to back down. Louis had been reading all of the signs very carefully and had come to the conclusion that Harry was very much against the idea of Louis coming onto him in the staff room - which, now Louis was thinking a bit clearer, he could understand - but now Harry was practically stripping in front of them, and Louis had gone right back to having no idea what was going on.

"D'you see it?" Harry muttered, and Louis tore his gaze away from Harry's bare stomach to look up at him properly. Harry was flushed slightly, and his eyes were fixed downwards. He shifted slightly as though he wanted to let go of the hem of his shirt, but an internal battle prevented him from doing so.

"See what?" Louis asked, his voice a little hoarse, as his gaze slowly travelled back down to the naked skin on display.

He swallowed, wanting nothing more than to bury his face there and kiss and nibble at the incredibly soft-looking flesh.

"The - uh - the tattoo?" Harry said timidly, shifting again, and Louis frowned, leaning forwards a little to try and see better. There were quite a few tattoos dotted around Harry's torso, and Louis struggled to see which one Harry was talking about.

"They're all really nice tattoos, babe," Louis said, a little helplessly, and Harry huffed out a small impatient noise above him.

"This one," Harry pointed at a very small tattoo tucked away on the side of his hip, and Louis had to lean even closer just to get a proper look at the tiny black symbol inked there.

"What is it?" Louis asked, eyes fixed on the tattoo. He still wasn't entirely sure why he was even having this conversation with Harry.

Harry sighed, and let go of the hem of his shirt abruptly, dropping back down onto the arm of the sofa. He huffed out a short laugh and then looked up to meet Louis' confused gaze.

"It's an ace tattoo," Harry said, so quietly Louis almost missed it despite the fact he was looking straight at him.

When Louis realised what Harry had said, the meaning of the words clicked into place in his brain straight away and he shot up from the sofa as though he'd been burned, instantly feeling as though he was going to be sick.

"An ace tattoo?" Louis murmured weakly, as his stomach fluttered. His eyes flicked desperately between Harry's face and the place on his body where he knew the tattoo was, despite the fact that it was now covered up by Harry's shirt. "Like… like, ace as in -?"

Harry nodded slowly, his gaze not wavering from Louis' face. "As in asexual," he said, his voice admirably strong. _God,_ Louis could admire that. "Lou, I know I should have told you before, but… yeah. It's an asexual tattoo… Because I'm asexual."

"Oh god," Louis muttered, completely unable to form a more coherent thought at that moment. He honestly felt sick, completely disgusted with himself. How could he have just _assumed?_ How could he have done that to Harry?

Louis knew full well what that must feel like. Of course Louis had experienced people coming onto him in a romantic way in the past, wanting more than friendship from him, trying to force romantic actions onto - or out of - him. It sucked, and now Louis had done the sexual equivalent that to _Harry,_ of all people.

In a way, Louis wished he could go back to that blissful confusion from before, being completely baffled at why Harry had decided it would be a good time to show off his body art. That was a good time, Louis had been young and naive to want to hurry it along.

"Louis," Harry began. "I'm so sorry. I should have said something - "

"Don't apologise," Louis mumbled, feeling an inch away from bursting into tears. "God, no. Don't say sorry.  _I_ should be the one saying sorry. I  _am._ Sorry."

They were interrupted before they could get any further into the discussion of who should be more sorry, by the door to the staff room springing open. Another young lad dressed in black from head to toe entered the small room, bringing in a burst of noise with him. He almost walked straight into Louis, who was still just about ready to bolt.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't know anyone else was in here!" he said, when his eyes fell on the pair. "Hey, Harry!"

"Hey, Jack, no worries," Harry said from behind Louis. He couldn't quite bring himself to turn around and see Harry's face, kept his gaze fixed straight ahead at the door that would hopefully become his escape route very soon. "We'll get out of your way."

Louis flinched as Harry's hand brushed lightly along his arm as Harry began to guide them out of the room; it may as well have been a slap for how strongly Louis felt it. Although, Louis realised with a fresh wave of guilt that it was probably nothing compared to how Harry must have felt when Louis had been all over him. As soon as they were out of the staff room and back in the hustle and bustle of the club, Louis stepped away from Harry so they were no longer touching.

"Louis," Harry said, close to his ear. "Come on, let's find somewhere to sit and talk."

"No, it's okay," Louis replied, a little numbly. "I should just leave you alone, and - "

Evidently, Harry hadn't heard him - or was just choosing to be stubborn and ignore him, which Louis admitted could definitely be a possibility - because before Louis could even finish speaking, Harry grabbed hold of Louis' hand and quickly worked his way through the crowd with him until they reached another doorway that was slightly away from the rest of the room. Louis assumed they'd stop there, as it was a little more secluded than the club in general was, but Harry pushed the door open and continued to pull Louis along behind him.

Harry briefly conversed with a security guard who was stood just inside the entrance to the short hallway, and then they were on the move again. Louis followed Harry without protest, eventually ending up at Room 6, which Harry unlocked the door to with a key he'd acquired somewhere, and then ushered Louis inside.

Louis really wished he'd been better prepared for what was actually going to be inside Room 6, because he stood there for quite some time just staring at what he was faced with. The great big stripper pole in the centre of the room with a 360 seating arrangement around it probably shouldn't have been that much of a shock, it wasn't as though Louis hadn't gotten the gist of the club yet -  it was actually called _Stripster,_ after all _-_ but Louis still struggled somewhat to understand how his innocent mission to surprise Harry at work had ended up here.

"Are you alright if I lock the door?" Harry asked softly from behind him, and Louis startled, turning quickly to face him.

"Sorry, what?" he asked, his mind elsewhere.

"I said, are you going to be okay if I lock the door?" Harry repeated. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, or anything."

Louis huffed out a disbelieving laugh, and Harry frowned.

"No, it's fine, love," Louis said, shaking his head slightly. "Go ahead, lock the door."

"I mean, it's better than someone barging in here looking for a dance, so it's probably the smart choice," Harry said, turning his back on Louis to lock the door.

He dropped the key on top of a 'tips' box that was stuck up on the wall just beside the door, and then made his way over to where Louis was still standing awkwardly, about halfway between the door and the nearest chairs.

Harry carefully pulled Louis in for a hug, and Louis tried to force himself to relax. This was okay, this wasn't anything new. Now that Harry had actually initiated it, Louis was pretty sure he knew where he stood with cuddles, even if everything else he'd assumed had turned out to be slightly wrong.

Louis had no idea how Harry currently felt about him; having unwanted sexual advances thrust upon him out of nowhere can't have been particularly pleasant from _anybody,_ let alone from someone he should have been able to trust implicitly.

As Louis' thoughts spiralled, he suddenly felt Harry drop a kiss on the top of his head, and his heart swelled a little at the sheer comfort behind that gesture. He felt completely safe wrapped up in Harry's arms; he just wished he could provide that same feeling for Harry.

Louis gently rested his head forward on Harry's shoulder, and let his breathing match Harry's surprisingly steady ones. The calmer Louis became, the more prepared he felt to deal with the conversation that was sure to follow, until he finally pushed himself away from Harry's embrace with an air of decisiveness.

Harry smiled at him, not taking his hands away from where they now rested lightly on Louis' waist, his thumbs swiping gently across the denim of Louis' jacket. Louis fiddled with his hair, feeling a little self-conscious under Harry's unwavering gaze, and his eyes flicked around the room again for want of something better to do.

"Do you want to sit?" Harry suggested, slightly tugging Louis towards the row of chairs. "We don't have to just stand here, you know."

"Yeah. We can sit... around the stripper's pole," Louis spoke jerkily, the absurdity of the situation not going unnoticed.

However, at Louis' comment, Harry's hands stilled on Louis' waist, and he stiffened visibly.

Louis winced, _way to go, Tommo._ He quickly attempted to backtrack. "I didn't mean - I'm sorry - I - "

"No, it's alright," Harry sighed, although he removed his hands from Louis' body, folded them across his own chest instead.

"I didn't mean that," Louis said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, I don't - I don't really know what to say." He figured honesty was the best policy. There was no need for posturing with Harry, no need to pretend he was feeling stronger than he actually was. There were very few people Louis could act like that around, but Harry was definitely one of them, especially as Harry was also appearing so vulnerable in that moment. What was the point in Louis keeping his guard up?

"Let's sit," Harry repeated softly after a long, painful moment of silence. He moved away from Louis to perch on one of the chairs and patted the one next to it, looking up at Louis expectantly.

Louis took a deep steadying breath and walked over to join him, sitting gingerly on the edge of the seat Harry offered, studiously ignoring the elephant in the room that he was now sitting very close to.

"Lou, really, if you're not comfortable in here, we can go somewhere else," Harry said, studying Louis' face carefully. "I really don't mind."

"You're worried about _me_ being comfortable in here? Shouldn't it be me saying that to you?" Louis replied, incredulously.

"Well, this is kind of my job, you know. I'm sort of used to it by now," Harry shrugged, a small smile on his lips.

"I guess," Louis muttered, eyes flicking up to meet Harry's briefly before darting away again quickly.

"You can ask," Harry prompted gently, the smile clear in his voice.

"Why didn't you tell me you were ace?" Louis practically whispered.

Harry shifted in his seat, huffed out a laugh. "That's not what I was expecting you to ask," he admitted, but then took a deep breath and continued, "I'm really sorry I didn't tell you sooner, Lou, but there wasn't a particular reason, or anything. It's not like I was deliberately hiding it from you, I just - _you_ know it's hard. It's not an easy conversation, is it?"

"No, it isn't," Louis said. "But I did it. The very first night I met you and Nick." He tried not to make it sound accusatory; he was well aware that he was in the wrong that night.

"I know that, but the thing is that was already such a big and scary night, I didn't want to add something new into it as well as what we were already dealing with. Do you know what I mean?"

Louis nodded, and his eyes dropped to where Harry was playing with the ring around his middle finger again, twisting it round almost absentmindedly.

"That's an ace ring, isn't it?" Louis said, eyes fixed on the black ring.

Harry's hands stilled at Louis' question, and he murmured out a soft, "Yeah."

"I should have recognised it," Louis muttered.

"No, you shouldn't," Harry laughed. "Come on. Anyone can wear a black ring, it didn't have to mean anything."

"But with you, it did. It does."

"It doesn't change anything, you know," Harry murmured. "Nothing's different, is it?

Louis looked up then, recognising the uncertainty in Harry's voice. Harry was still watching him carefully but this time Louis made himself look right back.

"Of course it doesn't change anything. Just like my being aro didn't really change anything. The only reason anything would change would be because you'd hate me so much for what just happened that you can’t even - "

"Shh," Harry interrupted, reaching out to take one of Louis' hands in his own. "I don't hate you. I don't think I could ever hate you."

"But, Harry, I basically  _forced_ myself on you."

"Yeah," Harry shrugged. "But you didn't know. I'm not going to hold it against you." He paused, a sly expression appearing on his face. "I'm not going to hold _anything_ against you, just so we're clear."

Louis rolled his eyes as Harry barked out a pleased laugh at his own wit.

"Crystal," Louis replied, shaking his head fondly.

"In all seriousness, I _am_ genuinely sorry that I didn't say anything earlier, though," Harry said quietly. "I was just scared."

"You're not scared now?" Louis questioned, grinning when Harry immediately shook his head.

"I should never have been scared in the first place. Honestly, I've lost track by now of the number of times Nick has given me the 'you are who you are and that's okay' lecture," Harry smiled, running a hand through his hair as a dimple popped into his cheek.

Louis giggled. "I've had that one a few times now too."

"He's a total pro at that speech," Harry grinned, linking his fingers through Louis' properly.

"Definitely," Louis nodded, shifting closer to Harry until he was practically sitting on Harry's lap. "I don't think I've ever been told those sorts of things by real life people before... well, besides my mum, you know."

"I know," Harry agreed. "Just the internet, right? And even that was more of a recent thing for me, anyway."

"And now you have Nick," Louis said softly, feeling a pang of sympathy for past-Harry's struggles.

"And now we all have each other," Harry corrected gently, his lips quirking up.

Louis' breath hitched as he looked into Harry's eyes, the colour of them suddenly so incredibly striking. He exhaled slightly shakily and leaned in slowly, until his forehead was pressing against Harry's gently.

"We all have each other," he echoed, whispered on a breath. He felt Harry's resulting exhale brush against his own lips as Harry's eyes fluttered closed. Louis let his own eyes slip shut.

He felt Harry's hands slide around his waist again, like they belonged there. Louis felt like he really did belong there, that he and Harry belonged right where they were in that moment.

"Harry," Louis breathed after a few moments of deliberation, and Harry hummed quietly in response. Louis kept his eyes closed as he whispered, "Are you… are you okay with kisses?"

Harry huffed a quick breath that blew across Louis' face, made Louis' eyes crinkle at the corners in happiness.

"I am," Harry murmured back, shifting slightly in his seat, holding Louis tight as he did so. "Are _you_ okay with kisses?"

Louis' heart skipped a beat as he felt Harry's face move against his own. He reached forwards blindly, still refusing to open his eyes, not having a clue if Harry's eyes were open or not, and grabbed hold of Harry's shirt, curling his hands into fists around the fabric.

"Yeah," he whispered. "I am."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, and Louis swore he could feel Harry's lips move against his cheek, felt the skin heat up in a blush.

Louis blinked his eyes open, pulling back minutely so he could meet Harry's. When their eyes met, Harry's were filled with such an intense expression that Louis wanted to bury his face in the crook of his neck and hide away from it a little bit, but he kept his eyes locked with Harry's as he nodded slowly and deliberately.

Harry's breath hitched audibly and his attention dropped down to Louis' mouth for a moment before travelling back to Louis' eyes again as he tilted his head to the side, one hand tightening on Louis' waist.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispered, and Louis didn’t have to think twice, nodded instantly, tilting his head the opposite way to Harry's.

They both leaned in, meeting halfway, their mouths uniting in a tender and perfectly chaste kiss. Harry's lips were soft against Louis', both in texture and pressure. The kiss was gentle, no force behind it, but it was perfect. Having Harry that close, being that connected, it was all Louis had needed.

His heart started beating doubly hard in his chest and his grip on Harry's shirt tightened. Harry made a small noise in his throat and started moving his hand gently, rubbing up and down Louis' side, soothing, comforting. Louis wanted to burrow into Harry, impossibly closer, and settled instead for winding his arms around Harry's neck, his hands going to Harry's hair, pulling the soft curls gently, his fingers slipping easily through them to reach the heat of Harry's scalp.

Louis broke away first, more for the reason that he needed to catch his breath than anything else, and Harry did the same, their noses brushing against each others' as they separated.

Harry laughed slightly as he brought a hand up to touch his own mouth, almost reverently. His eyes were so bright as they shone across at Louis, and Louis could do nothing but grin back at him. He just felt so immensely happy, like he wanted to dance, and sing, and do everything that made him happy in the world right in that moment. Kissing Harry could come pretty high up that list, Louis was sure.

"Lou," Harry breathed, nudging his head into Louis' palm. Louis had almost forgotten it was still there and pulled it away, not without pulling gently on a strand as he went though, which made Harry's dimple pop into his cheek. "Was that okay?" he asked.

Louis smiled. "More than. Was it okay for you?"

Harry nodded, "Absolutely," he paused, then pressed, "You do realise what that means…"

Louis' heart skipped a beat at the reminder, but he _had_ realised, of course he had.

"Yeah," Louis whispered, which Harry looked thoroughly reassured by, although something had just occurred to Louis that meant he couldn't share that feeling entirely. "Harry, won't Nick mind that we just - "

"No," Harry interrupted, shaking his head. "Nick won't mind." At Louis' clearly disbelieving expression, Harry laughed, shaking his head more vehemently. "He _won't._ Trust me."

"That's what Nick said when - " Louis pulled himself up short, eyes widening. He realised with a shock that he hadn't yet spoken to Harry about his drunken night, and his heart pounded at the thought he'd just put his foot in it.

"When what?" Harry prompted, easily. "When you slept with him?"

Louis choked on his own breath at the simplicity of Harry's statement.

"Well, yeah…" he said when he recovered, Harry smiling calmly at him the entire time. "You already _knew?_ You never even said anything!"

"Because it genuinely doesn't matter to me, as I'm sure that's why Nick told you to trust him," Harry laughed. "You worry too much, Lou. We'll go and see Nick later tonight if you want to, though. I finish in about an hour if you want to stick around until then."

"Oh, shit," Louis gasped. "You're at work right now!"

"Yes?" Harry said, frowning, looking utterly bemused at the sudden subject change.

"Well, you're not doing much working, are you?" Louis demanded, and Harry laughed, standing up and holding out his hand for Louis to take.

"Come on, I'll get back to work if it offends you so much. You'll stay though, right?" Harry checked as he moved over to unlock the door.

"Of course. I'm not facing Nick alone, anyway."

"Hey," Harry frowned. "Don't worry, please. It's all fine."

Louis gave a slightly shaky smile as they emerged into the hallway, the sounds from the club filtering through now. Harry swiped his thumb across Louis' knuckles as they approached the door.

"Come on, let's go and dance. Have a drink. Do whatever makes you happy," Harry grinned, as he handed the key over to the same security guy he'd spoken to earlier.

The noise that hurtled at Louis in full force as Harry pushed the door to the club open prevented him from having to reply but even in the sudden craziness that followed, Louis couldn't help the one thought that sprung to mind. As Harry's hand slipped out of his, and Louis watched him walk away to finally get back to work, it was all he could think about.

_It's you. You're what makes me happy._

~~~

When Nick's phone went off inches away from his head at two o'clock in the morning, there was only one person he was expecting it to be, so he blinked awake with a sleepy grin on his face. He'd deny that to Harry later, of course; he'd have to pretend to be annoyed that Harry had woken him up just a few hours before he was set to wake up for work anyway, especially as he'd only just talked to Harry about that yesterday when he'd done exactly the same thing then. The boy needed to learn. It was such a huge charade but if Nick let on that he was at all fond of Harry's 'coming home' messages - and not just because of the little bubble of excitement Nick got in the pit of his belly at Harry calling Nick's flat _home_ \- he would only be encouraging Harry, and Nick would end up getting no sleep whatsoever.

However as Nick woke up fully, he became slowly aware of the fact that his phone was still going off, a repetitive noise that was not the same as his text notification sound. He frowned, and groped around for the phone as it continued to trill obnoxiously.

He frowned blearily at the display when he finally managed to grab hold of the phone, groaning when he saw that it was Pixie calling him - probably a drunk call, and one that Nick wasn't quite so fond of. Pixie knew damn well what his sleeping schedule was supposed to be, she knew far better than to call him at this time of the night, which meant that there must have been a valid reason.

Nick swiped across the screen to answer the call and was immediately greeted by a blast of noise that had him wincing and yanking the phone away from where he'd had it nestled against his ear.

"Jesus," he hissed, as his heart pounded at the shock of it. "Hello? Pix?"

"Nick?" Pixie shouted, far too loud in the silence of Nick's flat. "Grim? Can you hear me?"

"Ye-" Nick began to tell her, because _obviously_ he could hear her, she was shouting in his ear, but then Pixie's voice grew muffled and Nick rolled his eyes, waiting for her to come back. This was clearly a drunk call, she was clearly out at a club, Nick was clearly not impressed.

There was a lot of movement coming through the phone line for a few moments but then things went a bit quieter; it sounded as though Pixie had gone outside.

"Alright?" Pixie said, and Nick heard Henry's voice then, a response of, "yeah, fine," and Nick only grew more agitated. If Pixie had someone there with her, why was she bothering Nick for a phone call?

"Oi, what's this all about?" Nick asked down the phone, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

"Nick, babe, I don't know what to do," Pixie said, sounding utterly lost.

"What's wrong?" Nick asked, feeling a sudden surge of protectiveness over Pixie, a wave of concern. "Has something happened?"

"Yeah," Pixie replied, sounding flustered. "Yeah, and I don't know what to - I don't know how to tell you."

"Alright, well I'm right here, I'm listening," Nick said soothingly, trying to calm her down enough to find out what was actually going on, and hopefully to do so with enough time to spare so that he could fall back asleep at some point soon.

"Oh god," Pixie moaned, long and drawn out.

"Pix, Henry's there with you, yeah? Would he be able to tell me?" Nick asked, as patiently as he could manage.

Pixie hummed thoughtfully, and Nick heard Henry chime in, "What's he saying?"

"He wants you to tell him," Pixie replied, and Nick rolled his eyes, because that wasn't what he'd said but, hey, if it got the job done, Nick would count it as a win.

"Oh, I'll tell him, alright. Give me the phone, then," Henry demanded, and there was a flurry of activity on the other end and then Henry was speaking directly to Nick. "Hey, yeah, your boyfriend is a total bastard."

Nick's eyes widened, and his first instinct was to bark out a peal of laughter. "Thanks for that, Hens. Real charming, yeah."

"No, he really is, Nick. He's a two-timing, lying little - "

"Woah, woah, woah, stop," Nick said, his voice harsh. "What are you going on about? Are you with Harry now? Where? At the club?"

"Not with him right now, thank god. Pixie's not letting me anywhere near the little rat," Henry spat out, and Nick's hand tightened into a fist in his sheets.

"Why are you being like this?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Because I don't like him. You trusted him, we all trusted him, and he's just a lying two-timing - "

"Yeah, you've been over this bit. Why are you saying this? What's happened?" Nick interrupted, feeling himself growing more and more irritated.

"Oh, Nick," Henry sighed, then, his voice softening. "Nick, he's - Harry's - we think he's cheated on you."

Nick froze for a moment, frowning into the near-darkness of his room in utter confusion.

"He's cheated on me?" he repeated, numbly. "What are you - ? What makes you say that, exactly?"

"Pixie saw them going into the private rooms earlier, like  _ much _ earlier, and I told her she'd just made it up anyway, because isn't Harry supposed to be that ace-romantic thing, or whatever it is? - "

"Asexual," Nick repeated tiredly, trying to piece together what he was hearing. "Harry's asexual, yeah."

"Yeah, well that might be a lie as well, then, Nick," Henry said bitterly. "Because like I said, I didn't really believe Pixie in the first place, you know, give the lad the benefit of the doubt, but then ages after Pixie said she saw them going in there, they came out and I saw them with my own two eyes, holding hands. Coming out from the private rooms, they were. Then, like, fair enough that could have been that, whatever, but ever since then they've been dancing together, Harry's been buying this guy drinks, they're getting very close and I haven't seen the short lad give Harry any money whatsoever, so he's not a customer or whatever they call them in there. I mean, I'm sorry, Grim, but Harry's a piece of work, he's - "

"Alright, Henry, that's enough," Pixie cut in. "Nick, are you okay, babe? I'm so sorry."

Nick shook his head, still feeling more confused than anything else. "I - yeah, I'm okay. I - is he in there now?"

"I don't know," Pixie said. "They were still in there when I called you, but we've come outside now."

"Can you just check, please?" Nick asked.

"Hen, go see if they're still there," Pixie said. "I'm so sorry about this, Nick. We really didn't know whether to tell you or not, but then I thought if Harry's going to come back to yours and, like, act like nothing's happened or whatever, you wouldn't even know and that's just not fair on you."

"No, that's okay. You did the right thing, Pix. I'm just… I'm confused," Nick admitted. "I'm really confused."  _ And really tired. _

"I know, I'm sure you are, I'm - oh, Henry's coming back, hold on… They've gone? Apparently they're not there now, Grim."

Nick sighed, rubbing at his forehead frustratedly. "Alright," he managed, his voice tight. "Thanks."

"Grim, I'm sorry," Pixie said, sounding genuinely apologetic.

"Don't apologise, thanks for telling me. I'm going to get off the phone now. I have work soon." If Nick was coming off as especially blunt, Pixie didn't comment; Nick appreciated that.

"Talk later, Nick. Love you, babe," she said instead, and Nick managed a tired smile.

"Love you. Bye." He hung up without another word, letting the phone slide out of his lax grip onto the duvet next to him.

If Nick had actually looked down at his phone, he would have seen the lone message from Harry sitting in the group chat's notifications. It might even have been there before Pixie had called, but it went entirely unnoticed amidst all of the dramatics.

If he'd seen that message, Nick wouldn't have greeted Harry with nothing but silence when he slipped quietly through the front door after Nick had spent an immeasurable amount of time staring up at the ceiling, with his thoughts in turmoil.

If he hadn't greeted Harry with nothing but silence, Harry would have gone into the bedroom to actually see Nick. They would have talked things over and everything would be forgotten; laughed off, even. Nick would have called Pixie right back and set the record straight.

However, Harry didn't come in to see Nick, so Nick didn't bother approaching Harry when he finally gave up and got out of bed. Instead, he showered quickly and vacated the flat as quietly as Harry had arrived.

If Nick had bothered to go and see Harry, he would have discovered both him and Louis laying on separate couches in the living area. He might have started piecing things together there and then. But that wasn't how it panned out. None of those things happened.

Instead, Nick discovered the message when he was already at work, already broadcasting - although luckily in the middle of playing a song. He'd almost laughed when he saw it. Almost. But tears won out in the end, and he'd had to excuse himself quickly before anyone in the studio noticed.

Maybe someone else in Nick's position would have started sobbing during the earlier phone call, at the news that their loved one was cheating on them, but Nick hadn't managed to do that. It was only now, crammed into a toilet stall with the message open on his phone, as he tried his best to muffle the sound, that Nick simply let himself cry. He blamed this reaction on his lack of sleep, but in reality it was so much more than that. Hearing Henry and Pixie's story had made Nick realise with a sharp shock just how much he really cherished this beautiful thing he'd created with Harry, something that had only been heightened since Louis had come into the picture. The fear of losing that hadn't come to the surface until he'd realised that  _ could  _ realistically happen, he'd just assumed that this was it.

Glancing down at the message still lighting up his phone screen, Nick let the rush of emotions engulf him: his earlier anger, the near-loss, the worry of that situation ever actually happening, and most predominantly, the sheer and utter relief that it hadn't, and the knowledge that everything was absolutely fine.

_ Something wonderful's happened! We're coming back to yours now. Let me know if you're up? Xxx _

Nick knew he had some phone calls to make, very much needing to set the record straight, but first he had to somehow get through the rest of his show coherently while all he really wanted to do was to get home to his boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that you can watch the trailer for this fic here if you want to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GcDf6r9fn3M


	14. Chapter 14

Louis knew that there were plenty of ways you could show someone that they were loved and appreciated, ranging from the tiniest to the grandest of gestures. He was even slowly but surely getting better at putting this knowledge into action, but somehow he still found it a little harder than the others did to express these sentiments. He knew this had probably come from years of holding himself back, for fear of accidentally leading someone on in the past, and understood that this was justified - as Harry had also assured him on multiple occasions. However, knowing and understanding something didn’t automatically make everything better, and Louis still couldn’t help but feel guilty when he saw how easy Nick and Harry found it. 

Louis’ lack of reciprocation on the romantic front hadn’t seemed to deter Nick and Harry from expressing their feelings - once they’d checked and double checked that it wouldn’t make Louis uncomfortable - towards each other and to Louis. In fact, it had quickly become a very natural part of Louis’ life; albeit one Louis had never been expecting. 

They had all very easily fallen into place, slipping into various roles and dynamics with each other, and they all knew who to turn to or what action to take when needed. Apparently, the action of the day for Louis was to be rushing across the streets of London, disgruntled, embarrassingly out of breath, and clutching a paper bag of steaming breakfast treats. 

Nick had been complaining on the radio that morning about the fact that Harry was away, and how sad and empty the flat felt, how cold the bed was bla bla bla. Louis had been mid eye roll, aware that Nick was only carrying on like this because he knew Louis was listening to the show when Nick had unknowingly turned it up a notch.

_ “I woke up with a rumbling stomach this morning, and there was absolutely nothing. Not one scrap. Harry, you’re starving me. Come home at once and feed me. Thanks, love.” _

It was true. More often than not, Harry woke up earlier than both Louis and Nick - despite getting in from work only a few hours previous - and prepare the most amazing breakfasts for them. He would normally fetch Nick a cup of coffee and something light for him to eat before Nick headed off to work, and then presumably went back to bed before waking up to do the same thing for Louis - except with a cup of tea, because he had taste. Then the two of them would sit and listen to what was left of Nick’s show, before Harry would potter off again to fix something for when Nick got in from work. He was an actual saint and Louis didn’t deserve him.

Nick had been speaking in a very lighthearted manner, of course, but Louis had instantly taken it as a personal challenge, jumping up from the bed - which he had been keeping perfectly warm, thanks very much, Nicholas - and throwing on whatever clothes he could find before legging it out of the flat. 

Louis had always known he wasn’t the greatest cook in the world, and could also probably admit that he was, in fact, the worst cook in the relationship. Therefore he realised that if he was to attempt to make breakfast for Harry and Nick, well, it just wouldn’t really be considered a good thing. This is how he had come to the conclusion that a great idea would be for him to nip down to the local bakery and pick up some fresh pastries, preferably still hot, and bring them back to Nick’s instead. All the fun of the delicious food, and none of the hassle of potentially burning down Nick’s kitchen.

Louis had done this once before, the morning after his first kiss with Harry. At that point, they’d had no idea how Nick was going to react to the news, and Louis figured that if Nick was going to come home to that shock revelation  _ and  _ a no longer functioning kitchen, it would probably be too much for one person to handle. So off Louis had gone, leaving Harry fast asleep on the sofa in Nick’s living area, quietly letting himself out of the flat, and speeding to the shop and back with a big bag of goodies for them all to share. This had been a lovely, caring idea, but Louis had made two major mistakes that time. Number one: buying the items too early, which meant that they had cooled down by the time Nick made it home from work so he couldn’t enjoy his share, and number two: forgetting the front door key so he’d had to knock increasingly louder until Harry finally woke up to let him in.

The pressure was on even more that morning though, considering that Harry was miles away and couldn’t be relied on to let Louis in if he happened to leave the key behind. Louis definitely couldn’t risk being stuck outside Nick’s flat until Nick himself came home to let him in. There’s only so far ‘it’s the thought that counts’ could get Louis in that situation, and he was pretty sure ‘ _ I got locked outside your flat, but here, have some lukewarm coffee’  _ wouldn’t quite cut it. 

None of them would admit it but Harry going away and being separate from their group dynamic was definitely a little strange, and they were all missing each other more than they’d thought they possibly would. There was an unspoken acknowledgment between them that a large part of the reason the three of them all came together had been down to Harry, as it was Harry who had set off the series of events that led to them all meeting. Now that he was absent from their day-to-day lives there was a very distinct Harry-shaped hole that Nick and Louis couldn’t quite fill, no matter what they tried. It wasn’t that Louis was trying to fill that hole with breakfast, per se - he didn’t think it would be quite that simple - but he figured it would put a smile on Nick’s face, anyway, so had decided to just go for it. 

As Nick’s flat finally came back into view, Louis sent Nick a quick text, checking on his whereabouts. He was just reaching the front door, and getting gradually more stressed about the lack of reply, when Nick messaged him back telling him he was in a taxi heading home. He threw in a little,  _ I miss you too peanut  _ that had Louis rolling his eyes, but nevertheless feeling reassured that he could enter Nick’s flat undetected.

Louis triple checked that the door was locked behind him, as that would probably be a bit of a giveaway otherwise. He had successfully completed his mission; he wasn’t about to let something as small as an unlocked door slip him up now. He hurried through the flat, practically punching the air in triumph, and deposited the bag of goods safely in the kitchen. 

He had just finished toeing his trainers off when he heard the sound of a second key in the front door, and he quickly flopped back onto the bed, slightly out of breath but otherwise completely innocent looking. 

Louis was very ready to accept his title of grand master of stealth, and had to summon up all of his acting skills in order to keep the smug expression off his face as he heard Nick coming closer. However, the squawk that Louis emitted as he was suddenly buried underneath Nick’s weight was completely unscripted, and he began beating against Nick’s back as Nick laughed into his neck.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Nick said into Louis’ ear, biting at the lobe just to make Louis squeak again before pulling away and grinning down at Louis, who made a point to glare up at Nick, disgruntled. He was already beginning to regret his thoughtful decision, wasted on a man who clearly didn’t deserve it. “Nice shirt, by the way,” Nick winked, and Louis looked down to see he was wearing the sleep shirt Nick had taken off that morning.

Feigning nonchalance, Louis sat up as much as he could with Nick still hovering over him. “Was a good show,” he said. “I especially liked the bit where you stopped talking.”

Nick shoved at Louis’ arm, and Louis rolled with it, dramatically falling onto his side and bringing Nick with him so they sprawled out across the bed. 

Nick finally removed himself from Louis’ personal space, and started to wander down the hallway towards the kitchen, so Louis jumped up to follow close behind.

“What do you fancy for breakfast, peanut?” Nick asked, glancing over his shoulder at Louis, whose glare only deepened at the nickname. Harry had taken to calling Louis peach, which Louis could somewhat tolerate, but then Nick had decided to adapt the nickname into peanut, which Louis wasn’t quite so fond of. He really wasn’t, honestly. The fact that the two of them had then made a sort of combined nickname of  _ pea,  _ which they also frequently called Louis was not endearing in the slightest.

As Nick opened the fridge and peered critically inside, Louis jumped to action and moved past Nick to grab a couple of plates down. Thinking Louis was simply being helpful, Nick didn’t turn around, which actually worked to Louis’ advantage as it meant that he could plate up the pastries without Nick noticing a thing. He was truly a master of stealth. It took Louis clearing his throat extravagantly to make Nick finally look. Even if the reason Nick had done so was actually because he’d thought Louis was choking on something, it still worked, and his gaze quickly fell onto the plates that Louis was now modelling.

“What are these?” Nick asked, a grin taking over his face. “What did you do?”

“Ta-daaa!” Louis announced, holding the plates out closer to Nick. “Baked them myself!”

Louis had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing at the way Nick’s expression fell dramatically at Louis’ declaration. Although, to give Nick credit, he recovered very quickly. He reached out and bravely took one of the plates from Louis, before walking into the living area with it.

Once they were both seated, Nick sniffed at the almond croissant, eyeing it with such distrust that Louis couldn’t keep the charade up any longer and burst out laughing, causing Nick to look up at him with wide eyes.

“I didn’t make it myself,  _ Nicholas,  _ you can stop the supportive boyfriend act now,” Louis snorted. “You can thank the nice people at the bakery for saving your digestive system.  _ Oh,  _ and for waking you up a little; I got you that disgusting coffee you like, as well!” 

Louis jumped up and retrieved the takeaway cup from the kitchen, presenting it to Nick with a flourish. Nick had already taken a big bite of the croissant now that he knew Louis hadn’t had any hand in its creation.

“You’re too good to me,” Nick moaned, exaggeratedly, as he fluttered his eyelashes up at Louis.

Louis just scoffed, and shoved at Nick’s shoulder, which just about summed the two of them up: give a genuine compliment, then get slapped; throw out an insult, and get a kiss in return. Harry didn’t  _ quite  _ understand it yet, and always stuck up for whoever was on the insulted side, while reprimanding whoever had done the insulting. A perfect case in point of that little group dynamic occurred the morning after Louis’ kiss with Harry. Nick had got in from work, the lukewarm but nevertheless very tasty breakfast food had been consumed, and they had all curled up on one of the sofas in the living area together. It had been Nick who had brought up the kiss to start with, asking Harry what his news from the night before had been. Harry had initially clammed up, but then slowly explained what had happened. Nick had been ever so supportive and caring towards Harry; they hugged, they kissed, they held hands, and then like a switch had been flipped, Nick rounded on Louis with mock-rage in his eyes. Louis had been ready for it, already sitting up and raising an eyebrow at Nick, welcoming the confrontation; and the confrontation came with Nick accusing Louis of trying to steal his boy, Louis arguing that he wouldn’t have to steal Harry if Nick was enough for him, Nick yelling at Louis to get out of his home. They would have kept this going for much longer, if Harry hadn’t genuinely looked like he was about to burst into tears, at which point they both turned their attention to Harry instead, launching themselves at him, hugging and kissing him to make him giggle and look a lot less like he was about to cry.

Louis and Nick’s relationship was perhaps slightly unorthodox, but it worked for them. It wasn’t something either of them had to force, and it just felt  _ natural. _

That morning, Louis and Nick managed to get through breakfast without coming to physical blows, though, and Louis even got a peck on the cheek as thanks from Nick. The fact that Louis promptly wiped that kiss away with the back of his hand didn’t detract from the sentiment. 

Once the food was all cleared away and the coffee drained, it was time for Louis and Nick to start their strange conflicting schedules. Nick made himself comfortable in bed with his laptop, starting to work on setting up a running order for the show the next day, while Louis jumped into the shower to start getting himself ready to begin his day. He was due at football practise in two hours and counting, and while he knew logically that he would only end up getting muddier and smellier as the day went on, he wanted to make sure he at least arrived to the practise in a presentable condition. This would be one of the very last training sessions before Louis’ first big match at the weekend, and to say that Louis was nervous would be a huge understatement. However, with the support of his two boys, who had both promised that they would be there to cheer him on louder than anybody else in the stadium, Louis was just about able to push through the nerves and focus instead on performing to the best of his ability. That was the issue with people having his back; if Louis was to fail, he would be letting them down as well, and he hated the idea of that so much more than simply disappointing himself. 

He eventually emerged from the shower - after getting a little lost in his thoughts - amidst a cloud of steam, and wrapped a towel around his waist to enter the bedroom where Nick was still sprawled out on the bed, although his laptop had now been replaced with his phone. 

“Oh, here he is, the man of the hour!” Nick announced, tearing his attention away from the phone screen to look at Louis, who gave an extravagant bow

“Contain your excitement, please, I am only human,” Louis replied in a stuck-up voice, although he couldn’t keep the grin from spreading across his face as he did so.

He was brought up short though when he was greeted with not just Nick’s laughter, but another very familiar laugh sounding tinnily through the phone.

“Harry!” Louis yelled, dropping the snobby act, and bounding towards the bed. He flung himself down next to Nick, kissing the camera over and over again just like his little sisters used to do to him whenever he FaceTimed home. “Harry, Harry, Harry! We miss you. We’re wasting away without you!”

“Such lies,” Harry giggled, and Louis pulled away to see his face properly. He looked unbelievably soft - there was no other word for it - his curls were unstyled and falling around his face, and he was wearing the comfiest looking sweater that Louis had a pang of yearning to snuggle into. “Grim’s already told me all about your fancy breakfast, you adorable little peach!”

Louis blew a raspberry at the screen and nuzzled in close to Nick so they were both squashed onto the screen, Harry’s gaze not wavering from the sight of them. 

“He’s so good to me,” Nick cooed, exaggeratedly. “My little pea.”

“Can we stop with the ‘little’s, please?” Louis huffed. “We can’t all be great lanky beanpoles.”

“We are pretty great,” Nick agreed, pulling Louis closer to him and pressing an exaggeratedly loud kiss to the top of Louis’ head. “Thanks for noticing!”

A brief rough and tumble ensued, which would possibly have gone on for much longer if Harry hadn’t intervened.

“Guys, can you actually  _ not  _ kill each other before I get home, please?” He sounded exasperated, but his expression was a mixture of pure fondness and amusement, so Louis didn’t take him too seriously. He sobered up quite a bit when Harry continued talking, though, eyeing the screen with disbelief.

“You’re  _ what? _ ” Louis exclaimed, mouth dropping open.

Harry giggled, and shrugged sheepishly. “I thought it would be a good time? Like, my sister’s just in the next room, and mum’s awake...”

“And I’m  _ half naked! _ ” Louis protested. “Give a man some dignity.”

“I think you look marvellous,” Nick commented, his breath hot on Louis’ neck.

“Wish I could say the same for you, Nicholas,” Louis shot back, shifting away from him. 

Louis looked back at the screen to see that Harry was giving him the full puppy dog eyes, head tilting to one side, and Louis was not a strong enough man to resist that look, even the slightly pixelated version he was faced with now.

“Fine,” he relented with a heavy, put-upon sigh. “Let me grab a t-shirt, and then I shall meet your family. It’s not like I’m horrifically scared about this or anything.”

“My family aren’t scary!” Harry protested, as Louis ventured back into the bathroom to grab his clean shirt.

“Not saying they are, love,” Louis called through. “It’s the implication of the matter though, isn’t it?”

There was a brief silence, and when Louis re-entered the bedroom, Nick was looking up at him instead of at the screen.

“...what?” Louis asked when the silence dragged on.

Louis heard Harry clear his throat. “You don’t  _ have  _ to meet my family right now, you know, Lou. Or ever, if you don’t want to.”

Louis laughed, settling back down in his former position next to Nick and fiddling with his fringe self-consciously. “I think that would make things a little difficult, wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t want to force you…”

“Hush!” Louis interrupted. “Where is the rest of the Styles’ clan, then?”

Harry simply looked at him for a long moment, but Louis didn’t waver, and eventually Harry leaned back to call out, “Mum, Gem! Do you want to meet my… Do you want to meet Louis?”

Louis rolled his eyes to hide his sudden onset nerves. His heart hammering away in his chest accompanied by the sudden butterflies that had taken flight somewhere in his belly were threatening to overwhelm him but he refused to back out now.

“Yes, let’s meet your Louis!” a woman’s voice exclaimed, and Louis swallowed, his throat bobbing nervously.

Nick’s arm snaked around Louis’ shoulders, and although Louis would normally have pushed him away without a second thought, the touch was undeniably very comforting in that moment, and Louis found himself melting into Nick’s body instead of jerking away.

Somehow, having Nick physically there, a solid warm weight right next to him, made what could have been a very tense and nerve-wracking experience seem incredibly simple and easy to deal with. Louis was beyond grateful for that grounding feeling as he was introduced to Anne and Gemma, Harry’s mum and sister respectively. He had never had to go through meeting someone’s family before in a situation that had so much riding on it, such as his current one did. The Styles’ family seemed to be doing their best to make Louis feel as comfortable as possible, though, and Louis could see himself getting on well with these people. They were a lot more loud and in your face than Harry was, which Louis found interesting, but they weren’t overbearing, and Louis would much rather have preferred that to long spans of awkward silence anyway. 

The whole ordeal was relatively pain-free, but as the two women had exited the screen, Louis had still found himself breathing a shaky sigh of relief. Another hurdle had been cleared, and he could now commence the sprint across to the next one, whatever that may be.

Unfortunately for Louis, he wasn’t aware just how close the next hurdle might be.

If Louis possessed the gift of foresight, perhaps he might have chosen to stay away from the whole sporting metaphor in the first place. He might have opted instead to curl up somewhere with a nice steaming cup of tea instead of racing blindly ahead, pushing himself too hard.

In another life, in another universe, perhaps he would have been able to prevent himself from potentially ruining his lifelong dream for good.

~~~

Harry’s phone had barely stopped ringing from the moment he’d woken up that morning. First up was Ben enquiring when Harry would be back at work, followed by Liam asking Harry if he would be able to get that month’s rent to him when he got back to London, which Harry had slightly resented seeing as he hadn’t even technically been living at Liam’s flat for the entirety of that month but he wasn’t about to argue with one of his closest friends, so he’d let it lie. A FaceTime call with his boys back in London had sufficiently perked him up again, anyway; a slice of normality that had Harry grinning at his phone screen until his cheeks hurt. He had even introduced his mum and Gemma to Louis which had been a nice extra surprise, and Harry felt a sense of relief now that was all out in the open. 

The constant ringing had almost driven Harry to turning off his phone altogether, seeing as the whole reason he’d gone back home was to spend time with his family and not just to keep in contact with the people he’d left behind. He couldn’t quite bring himself to switch it off entirely though, almost as though he’d had a feeling that something important was going to happen. 

Nevertheless, despite this notion, when the phone started ringing obnoxiously when he was sat down for dinner out with his mum and Gemma he was very tempted to ignore it altogether; answering at the dinner table was taking it a bit too far, Harry thought. However, it wasn’t just the generic ringtone that was playing in the restaurant, it was the one Harry had assigned especially to Nick. Harry had specifically told Nick earlier on about his plans for the day, and he was pretty sure Nick wouldn’t be willingly interrupting those plans if it wasn’t for a good reason, so Harry excused himself from the table, apologising profusely, and quickly vacated the building to answer the call.

_ “Louis…. Louis…. Lou…”  _ Nick garbled when the call connected. It was difficult for Harry to make sense of what Nick was even saying, beyond a loud babble of noise rushing down the line into Harry’s ear, and Harry was instantly on edge. He was pretty sure Nick was actually  _ crying,  _ his words coming out a little warped and wobbly.

“No, love, it’s Harry. Are you okay? What’s happening?” Harry struggled to keep calm as his heart leapt up into his throat, panic threatening to overtake him. He felt a strange sense of unreality, looking around at the peacefulness of the village he was standing in as he took this call, when something was clearly going so wrong back in London; it was as though the two places were at such different extremes. Half a world away.

_ “Harry… Louis…. he’s … it….  _ **_hurts!”_ **

“I think you’re breaking up on me, Nick,” Harry said, cursing the rubbish signal. “Hold on. Hold on, I’m walking… Trying to find somewhere better.” He left the shelter of the restaurant, wandering further into the town centre, trying desperately to hear Nick better, straining to make sense of what was happening.

_ “Harry, can you hear me?”  _ Nick half-shouted, voice coming through clear as day and making Harry jump embarrassingly.

“Yeah, I can. We’ve got it. What’s going on?” Harry repeated, pressing the phone close to his ear.

_ “Louis’ hurt. Injured. Me too. But not injured, _ ” came the reply, and Harry frowned.

“Wait, love, slow down… You’re both, what,  _ hurt _ ? What happened? Tell me!” 

A loud whimper came through the phone then, and tears sprung to Harry’s eyes, feeling completely helpless. 

_ “He fell. Football. His ankle,”  _ Nick continued to speak in short snappy sentences, sounding as though he was speaking through gritted teeth.

“Oh my God,” Harry murmured, clutching the phone tight to his ear. “Is he - is he okay?”

_ “Oh, Haz,”  _ Nick near-sobbed, and the tears that had been pooling in Harry’s eyes finally slipped down his cheeks in response.  _ “They’ve taken him to hospital. They think it might be broken. Hell,  _ **_I_ ** _ think it might be broken. It bloody hurts. So much.” _

Harry’s heart had skipped a beat at the mention of hospital, and was now beating twice as fast as normal as he processed Nick’s words. He took off at a jog back towards the restaurant, hearing Nick calling his name down the phone but unable to form a reply. He burst through the doors and everyone’s eyes immediately fell on him; a scene like this was definitely not a common occurrence in this sleepy village, but Harry couldn’t find it in him to care at that moment. He raced through the restaurant back to the table where his mum and sister were still seated, both looking up at him with wide eyes. Anne rose up from her seat to place a hand on his shoulder, a look of sheer concern on her face.

“I have to go,” Harry muttered, swiping impatiently at the tears on his cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I have to get going. I love you. I love you both, a lot. I’ll explain later.”

He kissed them both on the cheek, hugging them tightly to him for as long as he could stand, but the fact of the matter was that every second he remained in that restaurant, in that  _ town,  _ was a second spent away from his injured boyfriends, and Harry couldn’t cope with the anxiety that came with that knowledge. He tore out of the building without a second look back; couldn’t stand to face the guilt that he was sure he’d feel at what he saw there. It seemed like whichever path Harry took, it would be riddled with regrets, but Harry couldn’t get his thoughts gathered enough to weigh up the pros and cons of each path, so he simply took off running instead down the path that would lead him back to London.

In all the hubbub, the call with Nick had gotten disconnected; Harry wasn’t sure which end that had been on, but he called Nick back when he was seated on the next train to London. His heart was still pounding in his chest, from both the stress and the sudden exercise that had come from Harry sprinting to the train station in record time, but he managed to get his breathing in check enough to be able to inform Nick he was on his way back, and to remain as calm as he could, although Harry was well aware of the irony that came with that particular piece of advice considering what Harry had just done. 

Nick had initially tried to talk Harry out of rushing back but when Harry had pointed out that he was already on the train, Nick gave up on that act and switched instead to pure gratefulness, thanking Harry over and over again. Harry had hung up after a while, and texted his mum, promising to call her later that night when he would explain everything - he didn’t want to give her any news yet when he wasn’t even entirely sure what was going on, himself. He also sent a text filled with positive thoughts and kisses and concern to Louis, not really expecting him to see it, but wanting to do  _ something  _ to feel closer to him.

Eventually Harry had calmed himself down enough to think more logically, resigning himself to the fact that he was currently trapped in a moving vehicle that would get to London in its own time no matter how much stressing Harry did in the meantime. He sat back in his seat, face turned towards the window, staring out at the landscape racing past him. Each new change of scenery that sped past brought him closer and closer to the people who needed him, and this cemented the knowledge for Harry that he was on his way home; the realisation was undeniable. 

He had to rack his brains to think of anyone else - besides family - that he would do this for; making a mad spontaneous dash across the country. The list he came up with during that journey was incredibly short. Yet, here he was, travelling miles and miles just to hopefully put a smile on someone’s face. He could only peg it down as ‘The Louis Effect’. 

***

Nick gritted his teeth against a fresh wave of sickening pain as he kept his eyes trained on the door Louis had disappeared through earlier that afternoon. Nick didn’t know the details of what was going on down that corridor, but from what he could gather Louis was being put through some sort of examination on his ankle; maybe the nurses were checking the full extent of the damage, maybe they were fixing a cast, or something medical like that. Nick didn’t know, but if Nick was going on assumptions alone, he could only guess that Louis was being told to hop around solely on the injured foot while someone simultaneously kicked at it, based on the agonizing pain that would not leave Nick’s own leg alone for even a second. If Nick was going through so much pain, he shuddered to think of how Louis felt. He wasn’t sure what help he would be at that moment, but he found himself desperately wanting to be in there with him. He couldn’t stand the idea of Louis going through that all alone in a strange hospital room, hurting and probably scared.

He almost felt a sense of relief when the door finally pushed open and a nurse asked for ‘Mr. Grimshaw?’. Nick started to push himself to his feet and the nurse gestured for him to follow her. Nick kept his gaze on the nurse as he approached; her mouth was set in a tight line and Nick’s brow furrowed as his mind started going a million miles an hour coming up with worse and worse case scenarios.

“Hello, Mr. Grimshaw,” she began, shaking Nick’s hand as she held the door open for him to pass through into a long corridor. “Louis is a very strong man,” she continued as they started walking. “You should be very proud of him.”

Nick smiled a little weakly, nodded slightly. “Thank you. We - I mean, I am. We are.”

“You know he’s barely stopped asking after you and… Harry, was it?” The nurse paused for Nick to nod. “He seems far more concerned about the two of you than his own physical well being.”

Nick huffed a laugh. Somehow, this didn’t surprise him. 

“He’s an idiot,” Nick muttered. “But is he okay? His physical… well being?”

“Well, in the grand scheme of things, Mr Tomlinson has gotten off very luckily. From what I hear, he took quite a tumble earlier and the damage caused could very well have been much more severe than it is. However, that being said, he hasn’t gotten off completely scot-free. He has what we call a lateral malleolus fracture, which in very simple terms means that he has fractured his outer ankle in an isolated incident, but there is no break in the bone. As I mentioned before, Louis seems fine within himself but he has been given some strong pain medication so this might mean he seems a little different than normal to you. But I’ll just let you decide that for yourself, shall I?” The nurse had come to a stop outside a door, one hand resting on the handle, and she looked at Nick expectantly.

Nick was still struggling to process all of the information he had just been given, but from the nurse’s general tone of voice and demeanour, he gathered that Louis was going to be alright. With that in mind, he pasted a smile onto his face and nodded at the nurse, indicating that it was okay to open the door.

She did so, but didn’t step into the room, instead holding the door open for Nick to pass through.

“I’ll give the two of you a moment,” she said quietly once he was inside, and she propped the door open before disappearing back down the hall.

Nick entered, not really knowing what to expect. Would Louis be hooked up to a bunch of scary looking machines? Would he be unconscious? Would he be crying? Would he be -  _ laughing? _

Nick zeroed in on the sound, frowning. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, man,” Louis chuckled, swinging his - presumably good - leg happily. “What on earth is wrong with you?”

Nick shook his head, a little dazedly. Aside from looking a little ruffled up, Louis looked absolutely fine. 

“Are you - how are you?” Nick asked, eyes scanning Louis’ body for any sign of the injury he knew he had sustained.

“I’m fine, I’m good,” Louis smiled. “Bloody tired, though. Exhausted. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m - I’m okay,” Nick stammered, even as he felt a headache beginning to form. 

“I  _ know  _ you are,” Louis said, looking Nick up and down pointedly, a mirror of what Nick had just done to him. “You can  _ stand up  _ and everything, you lucky sod!”

“Oh, you can’t - you can’t walk?” Nick asked, eyes widening.

“I mean, I can, but I’ve been  _ strongly advised  _ not to,” Louis said, shrugging and then quickly looking away. 

It was then Nick realised that Louis wasn’t quite as okay as he was trying to pretend he was, and he shifted a little uncomfortably. He didn’t know how to comfort Louis, that wasn’t what Nick did, that wasn’t Nick’s role. Nick was there to take the piss out of Louis, to punch him, and laugh at all of his misfortunes; but even Nick could see that this really wasn’t the time or place to do that.

“Louis - “ he said gruffly, and he cleared his throat self-consciously, but Louis was already bouncing back, putting his mask back on.

“I’ve also been strongly advised to get a lot of bed rest and limit my physical activity over the next few weeks, so guess who’s going to be waiting on me hand and foot, Nicholas,” Louis said in a sing-song voice, grinning up at Nick, although Nick couldn’t help but notice that the smile wasn’t quite reaching Louis’ eyes. 

But if that was the way Louis wanted to cope with this, Nick could do that for him, so he shrugged and made a show of checking his phone.

“I’m not sure if Harry’s going to be back in time but I’m sure we can call one of your friends for you.”

Louis pouted at this, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Nick. He pretended not to notice this, instead scrolling aimlessly through his phone for a few seconds. 

“Do you have a number I can call for you? Niall might be free...” Nick said, finally looking up.

“Nicholas. Don’t be a prick,” Louis snapped, but that familiar gleam was back in his eyes, so Nick didn’t mind too much.

“Of course I’ll look after you, princess, it will be my absolute honour,” Nick said, rolling his eyes and re-pocketing his phone. He moved to sit down on the chair next to Louis’ bed, marvelling for a moment at the fact that his own ankle was causing him no discomfort whatsoever despite the diagnosis Louis had received.

“Forever and always, baby,” Louis muttered, and then something seemed to occur to him and he snapped his head up to look across at Nick. “Did you tell Harry?”

Nick winced, knowing what was coming.

“I did,” he admitted quietly.

“He’s - what did he say?” Louis asked, probably also knowing full well what was coming.

Nick simply shook his head, grabbing his phone from his pocket again to check for updates, and to stall for time.

“What did he say?” Louis repeated, lower, at the exact same time as Nick’s phone began to ring loudly in his hand.

“Sir, I’m sorry but you can’t have that in here!” the nurse from before called out, as she came bustling back into the room.

It seemed as though luck - or  _ something  _ \- was on Nick’s side here, and he wasn’t about to argue with that so, making his excuses to Louis, he quickly vacated the room. He breathed a sigh of relief as he sped down the hall and back into the hospital waiting room. 

Nick had been surgically attached to his mobile phone ever since that sickening pain had begun earlier in the day. The receptionist had kicked up a bit of a fuss about it while he was sat in the waiting room, but after the fifth time Nick had jumped up and left the room to take another call, she had seemed to relent and allowed him to keep his phone on him, which Nick could only be grateful for. He vowed to come back with some flowers or something for her another day.

He had simply not been willing to lose his connection with Harry, not when he was sure Harry probably needed just as much reassurance as Nick did that day. 

The two of them had been through a lot in their short relationship so far, but they had always been physically in each other’s company to sort out whatever needed fixing. This was new for both of them. This was the first time Harry had properly been away since their relationship began, and Nick had been convinced from the start that this was a bad omen. 

No Harry; Louis seriously injures his ankle. Go figure. 

Harry was the glue that kept all three of them together, and with Harry being what felt like half a world away, Nick had no idea how quickly that glue would give up, especially considering the amount of stress it had been put under already.

Nick’s phone pinged in his hand and he realised he’d got lost in his thoughts, and forgotten to answer the phone call. That wasn’t going to go down well. He hastily unlocked his phone, and read over the message - which was from Harry, of course. He was just coming into London, and was going to try and find a taxi to get on his way to the hospital as quickly as he could. The  _ love you both so much   _ that Harry had tagged on the end of the message definitely didn’t make Nick well up embarrassingly in the middle of the waiting room. He’d needed to get some fresh air anyway, and that was the only reason why he’d practically ran from the room, hobbling out of habit although he hadn’t really needed to; it was only the person who had actually sustained the injury who would be prevented from carrying on with their normal lives, that wasn’t transferred to the other person in the same way. This was something Nick had learned very quickly, thanks to Harry’s general clumsiness in everyday life, but it still continued to amaze him. 

He leaned against the solid brick wall of the building, taking a few deep calming breaths. The sky was overcast above him, a generally dreary vibe descending over London.  _ Might as well be,  _ Nick thought dejectedly,  _ it probably wouldn’t feel right if it was all sunny and chirpy, anyway.  _ Although, the way things were going, Nick wouldn’t have been at all surprised if Harry’s arrival to London brightened up the day as well as the mood of the place. Call it ‘The Harry Effect’. 

***

Louis had spent the entire time he’d been in his hospital room panicking, worrying, fretting. He vaguely remembered sending Nick a private message a while ago - private so as not to worry Harry and spoil his time back home - although he couldn’t recall getting any sort of response back. He’d realised at some point that Nick would have been feeling the immense pain that Louis was in, and had desperately tried to tamp down that pain. Of course that had all been in vain, but Louis hoped it was the thought that counted - a strange, morbid echo of the very same sentiment Louis had been feeling that morning. He thanked his lucky stars that himself and Harry had already kissed; he didn’t know how he’d feel knowing that multiple people were hurting because of him and his stupidity.

It was a rookie mistake, Louis trying to show off, trying to push himself just for the sake of it, when he should have been preserving himself for the big match. The big match that he would not even be able to take part in now. He’d let his team down, he’d let himself down, his family, his boyfriends…

And so his thoughts spun round and round, out of control. He’d ruined his career, he’d never be able to play football again, he’d disappointed everyone - including himself - he’d injured his boyfriend, he’d have to break the news to Harry, he’d have to buy Nick so many breakfasts in bed to make up for this, how could he afford that when he’d ruined his career… and so on, and so forth.

The knock on the door had brought about a welcome respite from the inside of his own head, but when he’d looked up and seen Nick standing in the doorway, he had to work hard to keep those negative thoughts hidden, not wanting to worry Nick even further. He’d plastered on a brave face and acted as though everything was a-okay. 

By the time Nick backed out of the room, having entirely dodged the subject of just how much Harry was aware of, Louis realised with a jolt that at some point along the way, he had stopped acting, and was genuinely feeling happier. He knew he should be feeling angry, or possibly guilty. He knew that just a few short minutes ago, he had been feeling the lowest. But somehow, after just a brief visit from Nick, Louis felt lighter and more carefree. It was as though the moment Nick had entered the room, he’d placed a shield between Louis and all of those negative emotions, warding them off and keeping them at bay.

Hey, he could call it ‘The Nick Effect’.


End file.
